


The Sun On The Horizon, Book Two - Tsydon

by Caprice



Series: The Sun On the Horizon [2]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Astarte, Ba'al - Freeform, Catherine Langford - Freeform, Ernest Littlefield - Freeform, Gen, Major Davis, Zipacna - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-03
Updated: 2010-10-03
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:21:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 105,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caprice/pseuds/Caprice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Delivered to his kidnapper, Daniel finds himself surrounded by intrigue and deception on a Goa'uld homeworld that is nothing like he imagined. With the rest of SG-1 hot on his trail, Daniel tries everything he can to discover the real reason behind his capture, and to find a way home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrival

Are we there yet?

Aún no hemos llegado?

Encara no hi som?

Siamo là ancora?

Are we there yet?

Sommes-nous là encore?

Encara no hi som?

Are we there yet?

Zijn we er al?

åá äÍä åäÇß áßä ¿

Are we there yet?

São nós lá ainda?

Jesu mi ima još? 

Ar my tam dále?

Are we there yet?

Ar vi der endnu?

Zitten wij ziedaar toch?

Vdy'na eto?

 _هل_ _نحن_ _هناك_ _لكن_ _؟_

Gaaahhhh.

It was the silence that was getting to him. Crawling under his skin, settling like a smothering fog in his ears. Nothing else existed within the narrow confines of his world now. No touch, no sight, no movement. Speech was taken from him and he mourned it. His nose brought him only the antiseptic aroma of oxygen. Time passed in a confused tumble of half aware dreams and clouded reality. Anger-fuelled expectation of being confronted by his captors had faded in the face of an endless stretch of nothingness.

Now there was only the silence, sitting close around him, sapping his will to keep alert and ready for when this journey would surely end.

 _Would it end? Maybe not. Maybe there really is no-one here anymore. I’ll just keep floating through space, a dried out husk wrapped in swaddling bonds for all eternity. Finally to fall into the grip of a lonely sun and vanish in a tiny flash of light that no living person will ever notice._

 _There’s an image._

 _Are we there yet?_

Silence answered him. And yet it was not complete silence. There was a faint mechanical murmur, muffled but constantly present. It had been there right from the beginning, when the sealed coff- _box_ he had been placed in had been swept up in the zinging noise of transport rings, when the sound of many feet had walked away from him and been lost behind a closing door, all that remained was that same faint pulse of powerful engines. He had been alone ever since, left to rage within the confines of his own mind against the bonds and drugs that held him immobile. Left to wonder what had happened to Sam - if she was even still alive.

Daniel could well imagine the anguish Jack and Teal’c were going through now. From the moment he had heard Aris Boch’s voice in the warehouse he’d known that rescue was never going to come in time. There had to be powerful forces at work behind his kidnapping, powerful enough to fund an infiltration of Earth and so substantial in reward to turn a supposedly friendly ally against them. Boch had parted company with SG1 on good terms, even warning them of their true worth to the System Lords. He had not shown any inclination to renege his decision not to turn them over to Sokar. Something had changed. Somewhere, a System Lord - for there could be no other party with the capability to fund this - had decided that he, or she, had the price to purchase Boch’s skills and to send him after Daniel.

There was another conundrum. What on earth, or any other planet for that matter, could Daniel have that was of enough value to instigate something so risky as kidnapping him off the streets of New York, bundling him into a presumably shielded ship and making off with him? Knowledge of some description? He literally had nothing else on him. But even knowledge would be limited. All security codes to access the SGC base and the Stargate that Daniel had would have been changed within minutes of Hammond receiving the news of his disappearance. Shifu’s existence was known only to Amonet and Apophis. She… she was dead and he was toast. He, Daniel, did have an extensive knowledge of the planets explored and peoples met by SG1 and the other SGC teams, but then so did Sam and every other team member. No, it had to be something specific to Daniel himself and he had no clue to what it could be.

 _Oh well, guess you’ll find out one of these days._

 _Are we there yet?_

Daniel drifted away once more, his mind unable to fight the drugs for lucidity too long. He foundered in a bizarre dream where Sha’re was happily baking bread upon the back of a smelly mastage. His heart soared as she smiled down at him, then she passed out the bread to the Jaffa and System Lords gathered at the animal’s feet and they put down their weapons, ate her bread and became friends. She reached out towards him, love and desire in her face, the secret recipe for her bread of peace in her hands. Daniel stretched towards her, just about touching her hand… and woke.

The sound of heavy boots coming near to him intruded harshly into Daniel’s mind, reality and dream mixing for long moments, then the dream faded, leaving him with a bolstering sense that his beloved was still with him. Daniel wrapped the feeling of Sha’re’s love close about his heart, then focused on the presence he could sense looming over him. Long minutes passed before the person moved again. There was a shuffle of feet, a scrunch of clothing, a scrape of metal as the lid of the container was pulled back, then a voice jarringly loud in his ear.

“So, Doctor Jackson. We meet again. Uh, look I’m sorry about this, I really am. I don’t expect you to believe me but -” Boch broke off with a sigh. “It was a once in a lifetime deal. I couldn’t turn it down, not when it meant so much. But, you’re okay, the monitors all show you’re doing well. When you get to where you’re, er, going, they’ll bring you out of it and no harm done. And I have their word that they don’t intend to hurt you, or anything. They just need you for something, then you’re free to go.”

Daniel listened with disbelief. He could tell from Boch’s tone that even he didn’t really buy what he was saying. In the distance an alarm began beeping.

Boch shuffled above him, then continued, “Looks like we’re there. I’m not even supposed to talk to you, I just wanted you to know that it’s nothing personal. You’re a nice guy, and well - if I happen to run into O’Neill or Teal’c or the Major, who knows. But you’ll be alright. He promised…” He trailed off and Daniel heard the lid of the container clang back into place.

 _Need me for something? That’s comforting._

Visions of Teal’c’s condition after they had rescued him from Heru’ur’s clutches filled Daniel’s memory. Even with junior’s help Teal’c had taken a long time to recover from the torture inflicted upon him.

Noises began to filter through the swathe of bindings and the metal of the container surrounding Daniel. The tone of the engines rose as gravity gripped him more tightly. Now and then, Boch could be heard talking to someone. Abruptly, the pressure of planetary descent pressed down on him, the high pitched whistle of atmosphere streaking past the hull built to distracting levels. For several minutes Daniel felt the ship diving into the sucking grasp of a planet’s embrace, bringing him closer to his fate. Then the pressure passed and with a suddenness that surprised him the vessel shuddered as it settled on the ground.

 

Daniel tensed; the realisation that he had arrived at his destination and that he would have very little influence over the events that would soon unfold filled him with a leaden anger. As the sound of many feet approached he mentally gritted his teeth. He may not be a born and bred soldier but he was the most stubborn person he knew - with a specialty in snake-baiting. There would be one Goa’uld very shortly regretting his assumption that Daniel Jackson was an easy prey.

The container suddenly lurched and he was moving, bumping from side to side as he was carried out of Boch’s ship. They moved down a ramp into a space that echoed with vastness, then on into a smaller space where the sounds of people moving and talking closed in all around him. In eddies and swirls, the hum of a busy thoroughfare full of people surrounded him. The voices were too varied and blended with each other too well for Daniel to fully comprehend what was being said but the odd word seeped through to him. Even more confusing, those around him appeared to be speaking several different languages. A shouted command in High Goa’uld - the language he and Teal’c had identified as the primary language of the snakes themselves - rose above the hubbub. As they moved along the other voices faded, leaving him with tantalising impressions of words that he knew he would be able to recognise, given the right circumstances.

A door clanged shut somewhere behind his head and he felt himself being settled on the ground once more. There was another shuffle of feet all around him, then a lurch of gravity not unlike an elevator beginning to move, followed by an odd floating sensation that suggested very high speeds. Puzzled, Daniel decided that their momentum was horizontal, not vertical. His mind occupied itself for some time picturing high-speed trains, elevated cable-cars, those old-fashioned tiny containers that were used to speed documents through six inch pipes within ’modern’ office buildings of the 1930’s.

Trying to measure time while all but one of your senses were disabled was near to impossible and Daniel was brought back to reality when the whatever-they-were-in slowed and subsided. His container rose once more in the grip of those around him, moving now with much more care into a space that echoed once again with many voices. This time however, the voices were muted and carried the impression of their owners comporting themselves with deference to their surroundings. For long minutes he was borne through what seemed to be vast corridors, all filled with many people, sometimes the tinkle of music dopplered past his ears. Once, the sound of what seemed to be a waterfall thundered off to his right.  Gradually the many voices faded to but a few. His bearers slowed, turned and then he was settled to the ground.

A small jolt to the container and clang of metal told Daniel the lid had been completely removed. Despite his curiosity to see his new surroundings and despite his resolve to meet his abductor head on, his heart began to thump with nervous anticipation. In response, the drugs once again flooded his veins and brought his pounding blood back under control. It did nothing for the sick twisting in his stomach as he felt hands on his face, felt the binding that swathed his entire body slowly unwound from his head, stopping at his neck and leaving only his face free to feel a cool, welcoming brush of air on his skin.

Daniel flinched internally as an unexpected hand gripped his jaw, turning his head first to one side then the other. His eyes refused to open, still held in the grip of the paralysing drugs. A voice - male - spoke softly in Goa’uld, confirming Daniel’s identity. For a brief moment he felt as if he should recognise that voice, then was distracted by Aris Boch’s irritated voice speaking somewhere to his right.

“I told you I’d already checked him. You think I’d go to all this trouble and end up with the wrong person?”

The reply in Goa’uld was too soft for Daniel to discern properly but it made Boch snort in exasperation.

“Can we just get this over with? I’ve done my part, now it’s time for your boss to fill his part of the agreement.”

Another set of muffled words floated past, Daniel only catching ‘recipe’ and ‘shipment’ clearly. Heavy familiar footsteps came closer to him and then a hand gently brushed his forehead.

“I have your word he won’t be harmed, don’t I?” asked Boch.

“My Lord God places great value on this Tau’ri. He will be well cared for - treasured,” the softly spoken man replied in Goa’uld.

“Take care, Doctor Jackson.”

The hand patted his hair then Boch was leaving, his footsteps fading into the background echoes, leaving Daniel feeling oddly bereft. The man had arranged for him to be assaulted and kidnapped and delivered into the hands of his enemy, yet he was the only familiar presence in this den of Goa’uld and Daniel wished he were staying around.

A bustle of activity snapped his attention back to the hands that were suddenly latching on all over his body. At a quiet command he was lifted into the air, the container scraping the surface as it was dragged away from under him. He was laid down once more and felt busy hands attacking the bindings. Swiftly they were unwrapped: from his shoulders on down, his body being raised and lowered as they moved, right down to his toes, until finally he was free. Daniel gave a little internal sigh of relief. He was still unable to move but the feeling of constriction being replaced with freedom made his skin shiver all over.

Those same hands carefully removed the oxygen catheter, slipped the spidery contraption out of his mouth, deflated the balloon in his bladder and slipped that catheter out, then disengaged the shunt that fed the drugs into his system.  Daniel could hear tones emitting from something moving above him, then a woman’s voice grunted in approval. An errant breeze played over his skin, distracting him for a moment until he felt a small, cold, metallic object being pressed against his neck.

Daniel had scant moments to wonder what it was before a hiss sounded and a shocking cold swept into his neck, spreading with the swiftness of a thought on through his veins, into his blood, his muscles, his skin; chilling and freezing everything in its wake. Still denied the ability to protest, to even draw attention to his plight, Daniel could only managed one choked gasp before his lungs seized up and refused to move. The ice ploughed through his body, down his legs, cramping and solidifying, and up to his brain where cold tendrils of death wrapped themselves around his consciousness.

Startled, confused and frightened, Daniel’s mind could only phrase one thought before everything was enveloped in a hissing blackness that swept him away.

 _“Why?”_

He sat upon his throne, regal and imposing, basking in the adoring gaze of his people. The enormous throne-room rang to the chants of the priests as they made their weekly obeisance to their god. Shafts of sunlight streaked through the high windows, turned all colours of the rainbow by the stained glass, to illuminate the god’s glory in heavenly shades of gold, green, umber and purple. The glittering crystal chandelier hanging thirty feet down from the marble ceiling sent shards of reflected sunlight to every corner of the room, over the heads of every one of the two hundred priests, home guard, servants and devoted people of the realm. Each shard carried the blessed gaze of the god to every one of his people. Or so they believed. He was a god. Their god.

He was Ba’al; Most High Priest and Master, The Eternal One, Lord of the Gods, Storm God, Bringer of Rain, God of the Sun, Conqueror of Warriors, Mightiest-Most High-Supreme-Powerful-Puissant God, Master of the Earth, Rider on the Clouds.

He was also asleep. Rather, the human host was awake and giving the devotees before him the impression of his benevolent will being cast down upon them but the Goa’uld curled snugly around the host’s brain stem had settled down for a nice nap over half an hour ago, retaining just enough control of the host to maintain appearances. Much as he enjoyed the ego boost these weekly devotionals brought him, sometimes it all got just a tad boring.

The sudden crash of a side door being flung open and the thud of booted feet racing toward him jarred Ba’al to wakefulness. With a great show of dignity he brought the host’s head around to face the intruder while he took a moment to collect himself. To his great surprise he found himself confronted by his trusted Lotar Elsh. Bemused, Ba’al watched Elsh skid to a halt in front of the throne and throw himself flat to the marble floor. The thin, wiry human’s body heaved with exertion and his panting gasps for air were all that could be heard in the now silent, echoing chamber. Briefly Ba’al entertained himself with thoughts of Elsh’s head on a pole with his skinny body stretched out to dry in the sun over the main causeway gates… but no, this particular human had proven himself quite valuable so far and had raised the standard of his unquestioning loyalty to an art form. Perhaps it would be beneficial to hear what he had to say.

“Speak.”

“My Lord God Ba’al, forgive the rudeness of your humble servant. I bring news of great urgency from my Lady Resheph.” Elsh remained flattened to the floor, not daring to even lift his head to his god until bidden to do so.

“Continue.” Ba’al made a slight movement with one foot, commanding Elsh to unglue himself from the floor.

Elsh heaved himself to his knees and blurted out his urgent missive. “Your guest has arrived, My Lord. The physicians tended him and tried to wake him from the Sleep of Travel. But something has gone wrong, the medicine given to wake him has stopped his heart and he does not breathe. They cannot reverse what has happened. Lady Resheph begs your presence to restore the life of your guest, as only our God can do.”

Ba’al was very careful not to show the consternation this announcement caused. Rising from the plush comfort of his throne he waved a negligent hand in the direction of his priests.

“Come. Bear witness to the power of your God.” Catching the eye of Elsh he nodded slightly to the right, sending his Lotar off to Ba’al’s quarters to retrieve the needed device. Ba’al strode through the murmuring throng of worshippers and out into the main hallway of his palace, quietly delighting at the scramble behind him as the priests tripped over themselves to catch up.

Gliding through the corridors with deceptive speed, Ba’al savoured a surge of anger at the so-called physicians who had jeopardised one of the most important campaigns he had put into action in the past thousand years. The very real promise of permanent change to the structure of rule within the Goa’uld hierarchy was in his grasp and it would not fail due to the untimely death of his guest.

He swept through the open doors of the guest quarters, guards and servants snapping to attention all about him. He nodded to his Home Guard commander, accepting the look of grim relief on the face of Resheph. Ba’al turned his full focus on the group of physicians gathered around the motionless, naked body laid out on a cushioned bench in the centre of the room.

“We do not believe this is a very hospitable way to treat our honoured guest,” he remarked softly.

The four physicians and five carers ceased their frantic attempts to revive the man on the bench and humbly gave ground to their God. Ba’al stretched out his left hand for the Con’otar as Elsh sidled up to him, wheezing slightly from his dash around the palace. The group of excited priests gathered closely as their God stepped next to the couch and stared intently at the man lying there so still, so deathly still. At least they had the right man. Ba’al remembered him clearly from the System Lord’s meeting - bravely masquerading as Yu’s Lotar whilst listening in on everything that was said. His escape had been remarkable, and one that had delighted Ba’al. The ensuing hatred between Yu and Osiris was even now festering into open warfare. His admiration for this young Tau’ri was well founded.

Thankfully, the Tau’ri was healthy. His body appeared in good condition and would respond well to the ministrations of the Con’otar. Ba’al raised his left hand over the Tau’ri’s heart, centred his mind and forged a deep connection with his host. Gently, golden beams rained down from the Con’otar to play along the bare skin, seeping deeply into every organ and blood cell, rejuvenating and reviving. Bringing life to death.

 

 

Sha’re was there. Her presence made certain by that wonderful warm sensation of security and comfort the solidity of her love had always given him. He sighed into her warm skin, at ease under her strong supple fingers gently massaging his body. Skaara and the boys were being a little rowdy somewhere nearby, their shouts and cheers coming closer. If they broke another of Kasuf’s potted plants they’d really get it this time. Sha’re’s fingers were working their way down his arms leaving tingling skin and rushing blood in their wake. Odd, she was managing to do both arms with both hands at the same time. Clever girl.

The noise of the boy’s play was picking up a beat now, turning into a persistent, repetitious chant. Something… ‘praise’… something…’eternal one’. Why on earth were they shouting that? Since the fall of Ra no-one in the city was willing to even speak of the Goa’uld, lest another heard and came to take his place.

“Most High Lord God Ba’al, giver of life…”

 _Ba’al?_

Daniel jerked awake, the sense of Sha’re fleeing him as his eyes flew open. Gone were the warm brown tones of the adobe room in which he had made his new life on Abydos. Gone were the happy shouts of boys at play. Gone too, was the security of his love’s arms. He lay on his back in a brightly lit chamber surrounded by a number of women he didn’t know. It was their hands upon his skin his mind had turned into the loving touch of his wife. Turning his head to the right, Daniel could see a group of men kneeling on the marble floor, all clothed in flowing robes of deep purple and chanting adorations to their God - _Ba’al_.

Seeing him now conscious, a tall woman standing to his left moved towards the priests and began to shoo them out of the room. They left reluctantly, still chanting and casting looks of wonder back towards Daniel. She moved about the room, evicting what seemed to be a large number of people, her bearing and manner easy with long held authority. Daniel’s eyes flickered back to the women standing over him, realising belatedly that he could now move once again, even if his limbs felt as if they were soaked in molasses. Memories filtered back of being unwrapped from the loathsome bindings and of the cold, stinging paralysis that had stolen his breath and - his life?

 _Oh please, not again._

A shiver of fear ran over his scalp. _How many times can a person die before they completely lose their soul?_

Perhaps it hadn’t been for too long. Or maybe he hadn’t died at all. Just floated off for a bit.

 _But long enough to pay a visit with Sha’re. Oh, god, I miss you so much._

Regret poured through him. How dare they do this to him, give him the opportunity to touch her hand once again, to see her beautiful face and then snatch him back from her. He ached so deeply just to be with her again and if that meant death then he was ready to accept the price. After escaping so many attempts by the Goa’uld to kill him, Daniel floundered, trying to reason why they would go to such trouble to capture him and then just kill him. But then he was alive, so perhaps in his infinite greatness Ba’al had messed up. It was too confusing.

The women were still at work, rubbing warm damp cloths over his body, following up with a heady, scented oil massaged strongly into his muscles. The sensations were hypnotic and Daniel found himself too tired to care about the machinations of the Goa’uld, or the fact he was lying stark naked in a room full of people he didn’t know. As they rolled him over to lie on his front and set to work on his back, buttocks and legs, Daniel’s eyes drifted shut and his heart grimly tried to recapture the feel of his wife’s body in his arms once more.

Slipping on the cusp of sleep, Daniel was aware of movement around him: the women retreating, other heavier footsteps coming closer. He started as he felt many hands closing around his legs, arms and torso, two gently cradling his head as he was lifted up into the air. For the life of him, he could not crawl through the lethargy seeping through his mind and body, and could merely lay passively in their grasp as he was floated through the air then placed, with infinite care down upon a soft, embracing surface. Hands came and went, adjusting his limbs, rolling his body to lie on his side in a classic recovery position. Warm, heavy quilts were tucked in around him and then the footsteps retreated to leave him in silence.

One presence remained and after a few moments a hand lightly brushed his forehead.

“Oo-way, Netcher-oo mri.” _Sleep, God’s beloved._

Daniel fell, Sha’re’s name silently on his lips.

 

 

The light tinkle of chimes stirred by the breeze brought Daniel back to the conscious world. For long moments he lay in the warm cocoon of his bed, gathering his thoughts and getting a feel for the room around him. His memories of what had befallen him in New York and the journey to this unidentified planet were all clear and ordered in his mind. Seeing no point in tying himself in knots trying to work out the who and why of it all, he shifted around to sit up against the dozens of pillows in the bed with him and squinted at his surroundings.

The room was easily as large as his entire apartment - walls and floor polished grey marble, floor to ceiling windows along the left hand wall all thrown open to admit a warm summery breeze. The chimes he heard were hanging all along the windows; tiny brass bells clinking together in pleasant harmony. A row of carved chests lined the wall facing the bed and throughout the rest of the room a collection of lounging chairs and couches were dotted haphazardly, strewn with brilliantly coloured cushions and throw rugs. Standard lamps and intricately woven carpets attended the couches and the whole room had a cosy, comfortable feel.

“Fair morning to you.”

Daniel startled badly, whipping his head around to look at the woman seated not three feet to the right of the bed. He gazed at her, speechless, trying to get his hammering heart under control.

 _Great, Jackson. Jack would be so proud to see four years of training have paid off so well. Threat assess first, then check out the decorations._

“Um, hello. Er, kel sha.” He was startled all over again to realise that his voice had been returned to him and that the woman had spoken to him in the language of the Goa’uld. Her voice was accented differently from the Abydonian dialect, but most definitely the core language that had been the basis for Ancient Egyptian and was now identified by experts - namely himself - as the prime derivation of all Goa’uld dialects.

“I am Kosharta, Keeper of My Lord God’s household.”

Daniel blinked at her.

“Come. You are well now. You must rise and prepare yourself to be presented to The Eternal One.” Kosharta rose, her movements graceful and elegant as she strode towards an open wooden chest. She wore an intricately embroidered shift, the hem floating around her ankles, iridescent threads of purple catching the morning light. Her dark hair lay carefully coiled about her nape. She turned and looked expectantly at Daniel. “Will you stay in bed all day?”

Daniel automatically slid to the side of the huge bed, stopping just in time as he realised he was still naked under the bed clothes. He eyed the stern look on the housekeeper’s face. “I need a soldier-robe. Or rather a bed-robe,” he said mentally rolling his eyes at himself. Time to get the brain cells functioning. What sort of a linguist was he if he could not separate ‘eewy’ from ‘wew’.

Kosharta snorted in disgust and bent over the chest, pulling out clothing and boots which she pointedly laid out on a couch a good twenty feet from the bed. “There is no place for false modesty in the palace of The Eternal One. You must rise, be bathed and suitably clothed. And hurry yourself. He awaits you.”

“Oh, must I?” He was really awake now, indignation filling him with obstinacy. “Well, let me tell you something, lady. I have no intention of being bathed and primped up to make a good impression on the - person - who had me kidnapped and dragged unconscious to who knows where. Now give me something to wear.”

One elegant eyebrow arched up over Kosharta’s delicate brow. “You would appear before your God without bathing?”

“He’s not MY god and damn right I will. Give me clothes.”

“No.”

 _“No?”_

“You will not have clothes until you are made presentable.”

“Fine. I’ll just go talk to His Ba’alness like this then.” Daniel swept aside the bedcovers and slid down off the high bed, his feet sinking into the deep rug. Head held high, eyes squinting to pick out any obstacles, he headed towards the double wooden doors at the far end of the room. “I don’t imagine he cares what his prisoners are wearing anyway.”

Daniel had almost reached the doors when Kosharta called out behind him.

“Hold.”

Daniel stopped, not bothering to turn around.

Kosharta blew out a deep breath filled with annoyance. “You may wear these.”

He turned slowly, hands on his hips, not trying to conceal his naked skin from her - she’d seen it all anyway. “No bathing?”

“I will not have the household scandalised by the barbaric behaviour of My Lord’s guests.” She tossed black pants and boots and a sea-green tunic on the divan in front of Daniel. “Do not stand too close to anyone, that they may smell you.”

Daniel savoured his little victory as he pulled on the clothes and decided not to push the point by asking for underwear. Once dressed he stood up, straightening to his full height and looked down on the woman.

“So that we may understand each other clearly - I am a prisoner here. I did not ask to come here and I very much doubt Ba’al will let me leave. I am not a guest.”

Kosharta raised her hands and blasted him in the chest with a near-toxic spray of perfume. “Our Lord awaits you,” she said sweetly.

Daniel backed off, throat and nose automatically closing off to keep out the stench. “He’s not a god,” he growled at her.

Kosharta glared back, her eyes lit up with an inhuman glow. “The Lord God Ba’al is, was and ever shall be a God - My God - Your God. Remember that if you wish to continue in this life.”

He stumbled back from her, fetching up against the cool marble wall, shocked that he had not picked up this person was a Goa’uld. Her voice had never deviated from a normal human female’s, everything about her bearing had said to him that she was nothing other than human. Apart from being rather self-assured she didn’t act in the manner of other Goa’uld he had met.

“You’re a Goa’uld,” he croaked out.

A quick smirk flashed across Kosharta’s face, then the light in her eyes died and she began to bustle him towards the doors. “I have managed His Lordship’s household for millennia. Now, young one, if you please - he is waiting.”

She rapped smartly on the doors and they swung open to reveal twelve Jaffa, standing to attention in two ranks.

Shaken and off-centre at having twice been taken by surprise in such a short time, Daniel launched himself through the doorway, determined to face Ba’al with a clear mind. The Jaffa fell into step with him without missing a beat, neatly surrounding him and guiding his way into an enormous hallway. Here too, the unexpected met Daniel at every turn. The dark, claustrophobic passages and flame-lit braziers he had encountered whilst creeping around other Goa’uld strongholds were absent here. Bright marble walls towered above him, soaring up to a beautiful glass and metal roof that stretched the considerable length of the hallway - brilliant blue sky visible beyond. Natural light filled the place, giving life to the rows of potted trees arrayed along each wall. And the hallway, which had to be at least thirty-five feet wide, sported its own miniature river: a stream of water burbled along over an inlaid bed of pebbles and lilies down its centre.

As they strode along, his eyes quickly taking everything in, Daniel cast a glance over the soldiers surrounding him. The differences between these and the troops of Apophis, with whom he had had most contact, were plainly obvious. The harsh, clanking armour of Apophis’ guard was nowhere in sight here. Each of the twelve tall soldiers was wearing loose, comfortable tunics over fitted trousers. Their footfalls were muffled by soft thigh-length boots. Bare arms rippled with muscles, bound only by silver armbands and leather greaves. Visible weapons seemed limited only to long, curved swords, swinging in their scabbards on the hip of each man. Or rather, person, because even more astonishing was the realisation that five of the twelve were women.

They walked the long corridor, then another and another before finally ending up at the entrance to a room, the tall double doors thrown open, admitting Daniel and his escort to a large and hospitable space filled with paintings and sculptures. All along one side, floor-length windows were thrown open to admit warm sea-scented breezes and a view of green tree-tops rippling in the wind.

The Jaffa escort peeled away from Daniel, melting out of the room with hardly a sound, and were replaced by a short, skinny man whom Daniel recognized immediately. This was Ba’al’s Lotar - the earnestly devoted human slave with delusions of God-hood.

“Greetings, Daniel Jackson.” The man smiled up at Daniel as if greeting an old friend, and Daniel recognised his voice as belonging to the one who had taken delivery of him from Boch. 

“Our Lord God Ba’al, The Eternal One, is waiting for you. This way.” The man spun on his heel and scuttled off towards the windows. Daniel trailed slowly after him.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know your name,” Daniel said to his back.

The Lotar stopped and faced Daniel, surprise and delight on his face.

“I am Elsh, Prime Lotar to The Eternal One, Ba’al,” he said.

Daniel nodded at him and continued to walk slowly through the room, remembering this slave and his unshakable devotion to Ba’al, first met on the space station where Daniel had tried his hand at undercover work for the first and last time. No help to be expected from this one, then.

Elsh disappeared through the windows and as Daniel wandered up, he could hear him announcing to Ba’al the arrival of his ‘guest’.

A step through the window and Daniel found himself on a wide stone balcony attached to the side of what seemed to be a palace of monumental scale. The tree-tops belonged to a garden set a couple of hundred feet below the balcony, in a walled courtyard. To either side stretched terraces, balconies and steep stone walls that rose high above and dropped down into a churning blue sea. Daniel let the view pull him to the stone railing, his eyes following the curve of the walls. From this perspective it seemed the building stood in the middle of the water. To his right a sandy coastline stretched away into the distance, small fishing boats were dotted along the water and further out to sea a large sailing ship ploughed through the cresting waves under a cloud of canvas sails.

Squinting hard into the sun, Daniel could make out the blurred movement of many people along the shore, and behind them what appeared to be a thriving city of houses scattered along the tree-filled hills.

“Beautiful, is it not?” The soft voice, low and filled with possessive pride, breathed in Daniel’s ear - making the hair on his neck stand up in a barely controlled shiver.

Daniel straightened and turned, stepping back a couple of paces as he did so to put some space between himself and the Goa’uld before him. He braced his legs and folded his arms across his chest, merely answering the question with a glare.

Elsh bounced forward, eager to do the introductions. “My lord, this is your guest, Daniel Jackson. Daniel Jackson, be honoured by the presence of Our Lord God Ba’al, Most High Priest and Master, The Eternal One, Lord of the Gods, Storm God, Bringer of Rain, God of the Sun, Conqueror of Warriors, Mightiest-Most High-Supreme-Powerful-Puissant God, Master of the Earth, Rider on the Clouds.”

Daniel raised a sceptical eyebrow and commented, “That’s quite a mouthful.”

Ba’al’s gaze drifted slowly up and down Daniel’s body, finally staring intently into his eyes. “We are merely Ba’al and We are at your service, Daniel. Elsh, some nourishment for our guest.”

Elsh bowed deeply and backed away into the room. Daniel sighed and decided to go on the offensive.

“Okay, alright, let’s get one thing straight right now. I am not your guest. You had me drugged, kidnapped and hauled to this place completely against my will. My friend was attacked in the process. Then I get here and you practically kill me before I’ve even woken up. You want something from me and I know you’re not going to get it. Any security codes for our base that I knew were changed the second they knew I was gone. Right now, I probably couldn’t get home if I wanted to. I’m not a tactician, I can’t tell you anything about our command structure. I’m just an explorer who speaks a few languages. Whatever it is that you think you can get from me, I’m telling you you’re mistaken.”

Ba’al’s expression twisted into concern. “We took every care to see you safely delivered to us. We trust you feel well this morning?”

“I nearly died! I wouldn’t call that very careful.”

“Your body reacted in an unexpected manner to the drugs meant to revive you from the Sleep of Travel. An unfortunate occurrence but one that has not had any permanent effect upon you,” Ba’al replied in a tone that suggested Daniel’s body was to blame.

Daniel opened his mouth indignantly, but was cut off as Ba’al continued, “We do regret the method employed to bring you to Us, however we believe a simple invitation would not have been well received.”

“Invitation?” Daniel laughed in disbelief. “No, I’m sure an invitation to deliver myself into a System Lord’s hands to be tortured and killed at his pleasure would have had me leaping on the first ship out.”

Ba’al moved back a couple of steps and regarded Daniel intently. “We understand you feel threatened by Us, Daniel and We employed methods to bring you to us that were not respectful of your liberty, but We wish you to understand that We need your assistance in a matter that will be of great value to your people and indeed all the people living under the System Lords’ dominion. We need your help, Daniel Jackson.”

Daniel stared at Ba’al, wondering at which stage in the last however-many-days it had been that he had fallen down the rabbit’s hole. Ba’al was talking to him like a sane, rational, compassionate man. Which immediately highlighted the problem - he wasn’t a man, he was a parasite snuggled up inside a stolen body. Daniel shifted his gaze over Ba’al’s shoulders, searching for the Jaffa that were certain to appear on cue any second now and drag him away to unending pain and misery.

Any moment now.

“You do not believe Us.” Ba’al’s soft voice dragged Daniel’s attention back to his kidnapper.

Daniel’s eyebrows rose up and he sidled a few steps backwards along the stone parapet. “Believe you? Of course I believe you. And I have a nice swamp you might like to buy, too.”

“A swamp?” Ba’al’s confusion was almost comical, but Daniel ignored him and began studying the balcony for possible escape routes. If they came for him from the rooms opening onto the balcony his only real option would be a nicely spectacular leap into the tree-tops below. With any luck he’d kill himself and save Ba’al the trouble. Of course that would not stop him for long but at least he would have made an effort at resistance.

Daniel backed up a few more paces until the corner of the parapet was pressed into his back. He folded his arms and lifted his chin, staring defiantly at Ba’al. “Just say what you want.”

Ba’al considered him carefully then turned and settled into a large wicker chair next to a glass-topped table that Daniel was only just realising was laden with food.

“The Goa’uld have lived in a very stable, controlled hierarchy for many thousands of years,” Ba’al began softly, his eyes never leaving Daniel’s tense body. “It has always been that the strongest survive, they lead so that all others may follow. Those less strong serve their masters, in turn those masters give their strengths and allegiance to the System Lords. In their turn the System Lords give their devotion to the one who rules all. Their reward is power within their own domains, which results in health and prosperity for the people under their protection.”

Daniel couldn’t help the scepticism showing on his face. Still braced to be dragged off by Jaffa at any moment, he was not prepared for a history lesson. He said nothing, merely glared at Ba’al’s blurred figure.

“Since a time before the Goa’uld walked upon your home-world, Ra was the supreme leader of our people. His strength was unassailable, his position unchallenged. Under his rule, the System Lords and their people lived and prospered.”

 _“Lived and prospered?”_ Daniel spat in disgust. “I would hardly call the way of life on Abydos as prosperous. Ra sucked the life out of those people like a leech. They lived in poverty, worked to death at a young age all so Ra could be the most powerful snake in the galaxy.”

“This way of life, this balance, has been irrevocably changed by Ra’s death,” continued Ba’al, ignoring Daniel’s outburst. “Without his presence the lesser System Lords have grabbed for their share of his dominion, they fight each other constantly for the slightest advantage. None, however have the massive armies that Ra held and they cannot gain significant dominance over the others to end the fighting. It continues unabated, battle after battle, millions dying and suffering for no purpose.”

Ba’al stared at Daniel, his face hard but curious. “You were the cause of Ra’s death, were you not?”

“What - you’re trying to blame me for the fact the Goa’uld are snapping at each other’s tails like a pack of hungry wolves? Is that why you brought me here? To punish me for killing Ra?”

“We brought you here, Daniel, because We believe you – above all others – may be able to help Us bring peace to Our people. To save the lives of the innocent.”

Daniel’s disbelief blew out of him in huffed laugh. He turned away from Ba’al and looked out at the sparkling sea.

“We wish to forge an alliance, with others of Our kind, and with your people – the Tau’ri – the ones who brought this change upon us. Whether you believe Us or not, by taking the life of Ra you have elevated your standing amongst the Goa’uld to a position of strength. We wish you to use this strength to return stability to our system of governing our people.”

Daniel shook his head, unable to fathom the scope of the Goa’uld’s audacity. The mere thought that a Goa'uld would seek peace with Earth… No, it had to be a lie.

“We speak the truth.” Ba’al’s soft words came from just behind Daniel. He spun around, found the Goa'uld now two feet away. “But we understand it will be difficult for you to see that truth. We have, after all, behaved as the barbarians you expect Us to be.”

“What do you want from me?” Daniel asked, suddenly tired of all the games.

“We want you to see Us as We really are. To see the way We live Our lives. To see that We are capable of being other than that which you believe Us to be.” Ba’al stepped back and signalled with a flick of his hand. The troop of soldiers reappeared silently and stood placidly flanking the entrance to the room beyond.

Daniel tensed but Ba’al dipped a hand into the pocket of his jacket and held out a velvet bag in offering. After a drawn-out, suspicious moment, Daniel took the bag. He opened it and pulled out – his glasses.  The thin metal frames felt so familiar, so much like home he had to stop himself crushing them in relief. He slid them on and immediately felt that much more confident as his vision sharpened.

“Why?”

“We wish you to be comfortable. And We would like to show you Our city, Our people. Perhaps, if you see how We live, you will be able to see the value in preserving the lives of Our people.” Ba’al motioned to the doorway. “Will you join us, Daniel Jackson, in a tour of Our city, Tsydon?”

 

 

 


	2. The City

Despite his better judgement, Daniel allowed Ba’al to steer him to the table laden with food. It had been days since he’d last eaten and that, combined with Ba’al’s frankly unbelievable story, was making him quite light-headed. He selected a flat, fruit-filled bread, tore it into chunks and stuffed one into his mouth, all the while keeping an eye on the Goa’uld who had retreated to the parapet to conduct business of some kind with Elsh.

Daniel’s gaze drifted to the twelve guards, still standing at the Jaffa version of parade rest, just inside the open windows. He helped himself to a goblet of spiced cider and stared at the soldiers. Something was different with these people. Well, something other than their lack of armour and staff weapons. Something was missing. _Oh. Of course._ None of them, male or female, bore the brand of Ba’al on their foreheads. He frowned and openly stared at them. They were uniformly tall, attractive and deadly looking. And unbranded. He checked their shoulders, where Ra’s warriors had borne his Eye brand but those too were unblemished.

“Something bothers you, Daniel?” Ba’al walked over to him, Elsh dismissed and trotting off on some other errand.

“What? Bothers? No, no. I was just wondering why your Jaffa aren’t branded like others we’ve… run into.”

Ba’al cocked an eyebrow at him. “We have no desire to mar the beauty of our people, Daniel. Besides, no brand on a warrior’s face will ensure loyalty in his heart, as you well know.”

“Really? That’s seems to be in contradiction with other System Lords we’ve encountered.”

“We are not like other System Lords, Daniel. This is what we wish you to understand. If you have eaten enough, please, come. Let me show you.”

“Okay.” Daniel drew the word out as he put down his empty cup and stood.

Ba’al inclined his head and led the way back into the palace. Daniel cautiously walked after him, the silent guards falling into place behind them. They moved out into the hallway and turned left, joining a throng of people moving about their business with cheery aplomb. Their route took them down a sweeping staircase, past two other floors and out into another, even larger hallway, easily fifty feet wide. A waterfall tinkled down one marble wall, draining into a pool lined with green mirrors and framed by flowering plants and lilies. Bright flashes of colour beneath the water announced the presence of fish. _At least, I hope they’re fish._ Daniel steered well clear of the pond, just to be on the safe side. A trio of players, armed with harp, sistrum and what looked like an oud provided pleasant background music to the bustle of people moving through the hall or congregating in small groups to either conduct business or engage in gossip. Daniel kept an eye on Ba’al as they moved on, noting the way those they passed nearby would only nod in his direction, some not bothering at all to acknowledge their ‘god’. He thought back to Teal’c’s descriptions of life on Chulak and found little resemblance to the way Tsydon seemed to be run. More than anything, this palace appeared like a busy office building on Earth – not at all a feudal system run by a despot with delusions of godhood.

The doors at the end of the hallway were simply stunning: metal-framed stained glass, three stories high, depicting fields and seas abundant with animal life and happy, healthy humans. Daniel craned his head as they passed through the open central panels, trying and failing to find a representation of the Goa’uld in the glass. Down a wide, long staircase of white stone, and they were in a vast, open courtyard. Here were the bases of the trees whose tops he had seen from the breakfast room balcony. Shady nooks abounded, grassy alcoves surrounded by flowering shrubs sheltered under the trees. Elegant statues carved from marble were dotted about, portraying men, women and fauna with fine displays of craftsmanship. Birds twittered above them as the sun shone down warmly. People were scattered all through the area, sitting in groups or pairs, talking or generally enjoying the day. It was all very… pleasant.

Ba’al walked on, nodding greetings here and there. Daniel tagged along at his heels, absorbing the palace and its people avidly. They moved along the gravel paths towards the outer wall and its monumental arched portal, bearing two open bronze gates. The walls themselves rose a hundred or more feet, tops crowned with battlements and strolling guards – dressed in the same fashion as their own escort. As he passed into the shade of the gate, Daniel paused and looked back at the palace. It was beautiful, admittedly. Creamy masonry rose and dipped in elegant curves, bright curtains fluttered at nearly every open window, trees and bushes added patches of green in tiny balconies or larger private gardens. Complemented by the piercing blue of the sea and sky beyond and the brightly dressed and happy people everywhere, it was a scene unlike any Daniel had expected.

He turned back to see Ba’al smiling benevolently. Passing under the gateway, the Goa’uld led the way onto a broad stone causeway that stretched over the water towards the shore. Here, he got his first real look at the land beyond, and saw clusters of large stone buildings, behind which rose a broad, treed hill, dotted with a sizeable community of homes. Crowning the hill were several structures, gleaming brightly in the sun.

“We are most proud of our city and our people, Daniel. We are glad you find it interesting.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“Ah. We first settled here forty centuries ago. The actual date is… unimportant,” Ba’al chuckled. “Our people have been blessed with a fertile and safe land upon which to thrive under Our guidance.”

“Uh huh. Right.” Daniel looked at the fortifications on the causeway and palace and on the large, squat buildings at the end of the causeway. Peace built on a foundation of military aggression and oppression. _That works._

“Before us, Daniel, is the garrison of Our City Guard. They secure the city, the sea traffic and also the outlying towns and villages. We are proud to say that never once has an invading force reached the soil of our lands.”

Daniel looked up at the pennants fluttering from the battlements of the buildings at the end of the causeway. Soldiers patrolled there too, similarly dressed as the palace guard. Troops in squads of twenty were drilling in precise ranks on the broad parade ground that fronted the barracks. Other squads were engaged in combat practice, wielding long staffs in intricate manoeuvres that he had often seen Teal’c use in training.  A group of mounted soldiers passed close by, their elegant horses all a uniform white with rippling manes and tails that swept the ground as they walked.

Ba’al led their party off to the left, along a wide stone street at the base of the barracks. It wound past open parkland, keeping level with the shoreline. At the end of the park rose a new set of buildings, some made of stone, others of wood, all large and apparent beehives of activity. The tang of salt air and seawater added to the atmosphere. Hammering sounds emanated from an open-fronted wooden building surrounded by boats of all sizes, from small skiffs to large fishing trawlers – drawn up onto dry-docks or simply laying on the open ground. Men and women were at work on many of them, repairing, painting or building from scratch. Some looked up as their “god” walked by and nodded a greeting, others merely continued with their work, obviously quite used to the presence of Ba’al.

Another few minutes’ walk brought the full extent of the harbour into view. It was a large bay, sheltered by a breakwater stretching from the far shore, mirrored on the other side by the palace itself. Daniel paused, surprised by the actual scale of the castle and its ramparts: sheer curtain walls, topped with wall-walks, rising at least five hundred feet straight up from the lapping blue water. The walls were punctuated by lofty turreted towers, decorated with crenelated parapets. His gaze drifted around the shore, finally meeting Ba’al’s, beaming proudly beside him.

Ba’al indicated the stretch of buildings fronting the shore. “Our warehouses store grain, food and trade goods brought in through the spaceport from Our villages and towns and that which has been procured or traded on other planets.” He smiled, an oddly wistful smile. “Eshmun’s bounties bless us.”

Daniel blinked, astonished. That sounded awfully like an invocation of a deity. He opened his mouth but was cut off by Ba’al’s delighted exclamation: “Ah, here, Daniel, We may show off one of Our sea vessels. Our great pride.” Ba’al reached out and turned Daniel back to face the bay.

A sailing vessel was emerging from behind the palace – an enormous wooden ship under a cloud of white canvas sails. It was streamlined, black-painted sides and decking, in a style Daniel was unfamiliar with, but its clean lines spoke of power and speed. As he watched, the sails were dropped and its speed fell away. It coasted into the bay, turning with an ease that belied its size, heading for a dock some distance further around the shore.

“You still use sailing ships? Why, when you’ve obviously got space ships of every sort available to you?”

“The worth of a thing is not only in its usefulness, Daniel. It lies in its beauty, its ability to stir the heart, to connect a living being with the energy of the ocean. When she sails the seas, she is alive herself and she brings life to all who stand upon her decks.” Ba’al was staring raptly at the retreating ship.

“Yo ho, me hearties,” Daniel muttered under his breath.

“Come, now, We have much more to show you.” Ba’al led the way to a short metal pillar set apart on a platform of grass.

Their escort hung back as Ba’al ushered Daniel to stand on the metal plate set in front of the pillar.

“What is this?” Daniel looked uncertainly at the unfamiliar device.

“A little tool gained in a trade deal that has proved most beneficial. Stand close, now.” Ba’al pressed close – way too close – reached out and activated the panel on the pillar.

There was a weird whooshing sound, a brief impression of being wound about with bands of metal, then Daniel found himself standing on a gravel path, surrounded by flowering trees and singing birds, Ba’al still pressed close behind him. He looked around and realised they had been transported. They stood halfway up the hill that fronted the palace, under the shelter of a breezeway wound about with fragrant vines. To either side, the broad path headed up and down, in front was a sizeable drop down to the city buildings and the sea. Ba’al steered him to one side, allowing the guard in groups of four to pop in.

“That’s some piece of technology,” he commented.

“It allows Our people to move about their city without the need for carriages and the like. It also keeps Our city clear of traffic and noise. It is most agreeable.” Ba’al marched off up the hill, Daniel following and once again reassessing his conceived notions of Goa’uld society. The path bent along the curves of the land, offering views of the sparkling ocean on every turn. Within a minute, another path joined it and Ba’al followed that one, leading the way to a group of houses, white painted and green roofed. Lush gardens surrounded each, brimming with flowered plants and vegetable plots. Tall trees shaded everything from the sun, which was now becoming very warm. At their approach, gardeners straightened up from their work in the beds, like so many startled deer. Many of them bowed their heads in acknowledgement of Ba’al, then stood staring as the retinue passed by.

The broad path wound past the houses and their outbuildings, many of which Daniel was interested to see were workshops filled with busy people. He wandered closer to one and stopped to examine the squat pots stacked in racks to dry in the sun. He ran a light finger over the fine clay surface of one, appreciating the intricate patterns stamped into the pot’s rim.

One of the workers approached him with a smile. “Fair day, my friend.”

Daniel looked up at the woman, dressed in light work clothes and a leather apron liberally smeared with clay. “Hello. I hope you don’t mind me looking at your work. They’re very beautiful.”

“Thank you, sir. We strive to include a little beauty in all our work.” Her gaze shifted over his shoulder and took in the company he was keeping. She looked back at him, staring a little too intently for a moment, then smiled again.

“What are these pots used for?” Daniel asked.

“We trade them to the bee keepers for the storage of their honey. Once they are glazed they will keep honey for many a year.”

“Really? What do you glaze them with?” Daniel moved along the rows of pots and followed the woman to another rack of finished pots, their shiny finish an exotic marbled green.

The woman launched into a detailed description of the sea shells harvested from the shore beyond the city, traded to dye makers who then traded the powdered dye to the pot makers who included it in a recipe for glaze that had been handed down from generation to generation.  As she talked she drew Daniel into the workshop and ended up giving him a complete tour, from the raw clay being mixed at the back of the building to the kilns radiating heat as they baked another batch of pottery. He paused for a moment, watching a young man skilfully turn a shapeless lump of clay into a thin-sided jug on a spinning wheel, and was reminded of Jack and his recent foray into pottery – and a resulting lopsided pot which now took pride of place on Daniel’s mantelpiece. He shook away the memory and followed the woman back out into the sunlight. She pressed a lovely patterned dish into his hands.

“A token of our wares, Adon.” She shyly smiled and backed away.

“Oh, that’s… thank you, it’s lovely. And thank you for taking the time to show me your workshop.” He walked back to Ba'al, patiently waiting for him with an indulgent smirk on his face. Ba'al inclined his head and resumed his stroll down the pathway. One of the guards offered to carry the little dish for Daniel, and he fell into step behind the Goa'uld.

The path continued on past houses and workshops and gardens, all resting easily under the cool shade of enormous trees. The workshops appeared to be grouped together by function: potters gave way to wood turners, wine makers were nearby to cask makers, spinners gave on to weavers who in turn led on to tailors. They passed, and in many cases stopped to investigate, gold and silver smiths, sellers blending an amazing array of herbs and spices, metal workers crafting everything from horseshoes to fine swords and daggers, jewellers with intricate fine work, glass blowers specialising in everything from window panes to bowls to tiny beads. The assortment of cottage industries was astonishing and the anthropologist in Daniel drank up the details of each and every craft and skill.

Time passed rapidly and when the shady pathway led out into an open market square, Daniel was hit with aromatic scents of cooking food, and he realised just how hungry he was. Breakfast had been a few bites choked down with a healthy dose of scepticism at Ba'al’s declaration of peace. Before that… his last meal had been a hot dog on the streets of New York with Sam.

Ba'al led him to an open air café where there were a number of people already eating the hearty fare provided by the owners. As before, people acknowledged their god as he walked amongst them, but no one bowed or flung themselves to their knees as Daniel had expected them to. Ba'al escorted Daniel to a table and they seated themselves in the shade of a large flowering shrub. Dishes were quickly brought to their table. Daniel wanted to question Ba'al about his motives for this little, well, grand tour, but the food drew him in and he was soon lost in the savoury pastries, crumbly cheese and delightful arrangement of sauces and spreads.

 

 

Half an hour later, sated and dwelling over a final goblet of cider, Daniel looked Ba'al in the eye. “Okay. Are you going to tell me exactly why you’re showing me this city?”

“It is as We said this morning, Daniel. We believe you have a certain notion of what a Goa'uld city is like. We know that Our home is unlike others you have visited. If you can see this for yourself, you may be more amenable to believing Our intention to change the way the Goa'uld interact with others, such as your people, the Tau’ri.”

“I’ll admit you have a very nice city, with nice, happy people in it,” Daniel said cautiously. “But I don’t see how you think that can change the way other Goa'uld run their empires. They follow a way of life that’s barely changed for millennia. Why would they suddenly decide that fear and oppression are not the way to go, when it’s worked so well for them? They’ll never give up the desire to control, to intimidate, to take what is not theirs.”

Ba'al tilted his head in agreement. “Such would have been true, until a few years ago. Six years and several months, to be precise.”

 _When Ra died._ Daniel stared at him, not speaking, waiting for the rest of the spiel.

“Despite what you may believe, the Goa'uld actually prefer an ordered way of life. To have a set of rules and expectations that one’s people and allies, and indeed enemies, follow is to have certainty in life. The last few years have been constant upheavals and battles, invasions and losses on massive scales not experienced by Us in thousands of years. Our place in this universe is no longer assured and there are many amongst the Goa'uld who find this uncertainty deeply disturbing. As you have no doubt already experienced, a disturbed Goa'uld is a dangerous Goa'uld.”

“Can’t say I’m really sorry,” Daniel said stonily.

Ba'al acknowledged him with a wave of his hand. “We are aware of your own loss, Daniel. What Apophis took from you was not just your wife, but your home, your security, your peace, your future. He denied you your life. You should have had children, grown old beside your mate, seen the world around you better for your passing through it. It is – monstrous.”

Daniel curled his hands in his lap, fighting the urge to leap at the Goa'uld and take some kind of retribution for just those losses.

“Your suffering is being mirrored on a thousand different worlds, in millions of homes where the Goa'uld in charge is left to plunder unopposed.” Ba'al leaned over the table, sincerity that Daniel just didn’t believe written in his expression. “Help Us to stop this. Help Us to give all those other grieving husbands something to live for.”

Daniel drew in a breath through his clenched teeth. “Fine. Send me home. I’ll be your diplomatic liaison. We can have your people meet with mine.”

“Will your people believe you? You return home with a wild tale of a Goa'uld who wants to be friends with the Tau'ri. Without firm proof will they let you contact Us again? Or will they judge you tainted by our association with you and send you far from them, prevent you from walking through your Stargate ever again? They may even lock you away, call you traitor. We would not see that happen, Daniel.”

Daniel went cold, flashing back to the white padded room he had so swiftly been thrown into because of Machello’s little pals. It was almost a knee-jerk reaction of the military to disbelieve anything extraordinary, and showing up saying the Goa'uld wanted to be friends would certainly fall into that category. Jack would back him up, sure, well, to a certain point…. They’d call him compromised and lock him away… and could Ba'al _possibly_ know about what happened two years ago, and be using it to threaten him now…? He struggled to keep his face neutral.

“What kind of proof are you offering?”

“A written treaty. Representation to your people from Ourselves and Our allies. We wish you to stay here with Us, familiarise yourself with Our way of life as we bring our allies together. We will arrange a meeting, on a neutral planet with the Tau’ri. We will invite the Tok’ra and any others you request. You will return to your Earth a hero, Daniel.”

Daniel arched an eyebrow at him. “I’ll skip that part thanks. You really think you can convince other System Lords to join in a treaty?”

“We do, with your help. All it requires is patience.”

He struggled to keep the feelings inside him from surfacing. Were such a thing possible, it would be worth sacrificing his liberty for a while. He wanted to believe Ba'al. Desperately wanted to believe. The thought of freeing all those enslaved, of preventing even one more person from the suffering Sha’re had endured…. _But he’s a Goa'uld._ The thought had a distinct Jack whine to it.

“One condition.” The words slipped out before he’d fully thought them through. “Let me send a message home. They don’t know where I am, if I’m even alive. Let me send a message, and I’ll… I’ll listen to what you have to say.”

Ba'al nodded and settled back in his chair. “Agreed. We shall record a message and send it to the Tok’ra. We know where several of their operatives are currently working. Our thanks, Daniel. This is truly the beginning of a new era, for both our peoples.”

 

 

With lunch over, Ba'al resumed the tour of his city. They moved away from the houses and workshops and onto another pathway that followed the course of a river up into the hills. On either side lay orchards of oranges, groves of myrrh and myrtle trees and field upon field of grapevines, all heavy with ripening fruit. They climbed the gentle slope for some time, often passing small ponds or fountains hidden in grassy alcoves between the trees, usually with a small, roofed stone shrine next to them. Rounding a bend they came upon the marble buildings Daniel had spotted from the causeway in front of the palace.

Towering pillars supported round roofs and elegant, sweeping archways of what were obviously temples, two nestled on either side of the river amidst beautifully kept lawns and gardens. The third building rose from the rock of the hillside behind the first two, its columned entrance framing a grotto from which the river water tumbled out of an underground aquifer. This one also looked awfully like a temple.

 _“Three_ temples? That’s a bit over the top, even for a Goa'uld, don’t you think?”

Ba'al looked at him in surprise, then laughed. “No. Even We are not so in need of adoration, Daniel. Our temple is this one.” He indicated the one on their side of the river. “Our consort, Astarte, is shown her due honour in the temple over the river.”

Daniel’s eyebrows rose. Consort? _Astarte_? That was a name he was very familiar with. A major Phoenician goddess, her worship had spread from Phoenicia into Greece, Rome and even Egypt where she had been adopted in the New Kingdom. In some circles she was even associated with Hathor. _Don’t go there._

“And the third one?”

“The Temple of Eshmun.” Ba'al’s voice was reverential.

Daniel stared at him. “Wait, you’re your own god. How can you have another god here? Unless… he’s your what – superior Goa'uld?” That didn’t sound right. Ba'al certainly didn’t appear to be the kind to take orders from another Goa'uld. Ba'al’s previous mention of Eshmun came back to him. Did gods have gods?

“Eshmun was… he was very important to Our consort and to Our people. When he died We erected this temple for his eternal memory.”

“So he was human?”

“Yes, Daniel. He was human.”

Well, this day kept getting more and more bizarre. Goa'uld erecting temples to humans? He opened his mouth for more questions but Ba'al cut him off.

“Come, please, see Our temple.”

Daniel trailed after the Goa'uld, his mind off and running. The Phoenician connections with the Goa'uld who had taken Ba'al’s persona were already strong in this city. The sea-going ships, the port city, myrrh and Tyrian purple dye, Astarte, even a number of words the townsfolk had used were of Phoenician origin, including what the lady potter had called him – Adon. _Oh_. He followed Ba'al between the grandly pillared entrance to his temple, barely noting the purple-garbed priests who _were_ bowing down at their god’s approach. Adon, a Phoenician word for ‘lord’, also the root of the Greek ‘Adonis’, taken into the Greek mythology along with the myth of the beautiful young man, Eshmun - loved by Astarte, Aphrodite in her Greek guise, and tragically gored to death by a boar. And here they all were – Ba'al the overlord, Astarte the mother goddess, and Eshmun.

He dredged up what he knew about Eshmun. A lesser-known Phoenician god, his worship had been based in the city of Sidon, where he had been one of the rising and dying gods, connected with the harvest, dying in the autumn and resurrected with the spring. No wonder the Goa'uld had co-opted him for one of their own, but why was he revered here as a human? Surely such mythology was perfect for a snake wanting to show off their powers of resurrection and immortality. Daniel broke off his musings as he realised Ba'al had stopped and was looking at him expectantly.

Daniel looked around at the gathering of priests. Their purple robes brushed the floor over their bare feet as they knelt in rows along the columned hall. The inside of the temple was enormous, the roof barely visible in shadows a couple of hundred feet above them. The space echoed with murmured voices, and there was a heavy incense floating on the air, rising from brass burners set at equal distances along each wall. Ba'al captured his attention and with a smug flourish led the way through the columns to an alcove at the rear of the building. If alcove could be used to describe a room of truly epic proportions, its only feature being a thirty-feet tall marble plinth, upon which rested a statue of Ba'al himself, seated with arms flung wide to embrace his worshipers, benevolent in his sixty-feet high glory.

Craning his neck up and up, Daniel shook his head in disbelief. He glanced sideways at the god in human form. “Yes, very nice. Very humble. You must be so proud.”

“Indeed We are, Daniel.” Ba'al completely missed, or ignored, his sarcasm. “Our people hold us in the highest esteem. Now, come, meet Our beloved consort.”

Ba'al swept back through his temple, gesturing acknowledgements to his priests as he went. Daniel followed, realising that the guard had halted by the entrance. They fell into formation behind him, silent as ever, and he still couldn’t work out if they were there to protect Ba'al or to keep him, Daniel, from escaping. Not that he had the first clue where he could escape to.

Across the manicured lawns was a lovely little stone bridge over the river, shaded in ferns and flowering bushes. Daniel walked across it, looking down into the water that rushed swiftly over the bed of round stones. Along a path winding through the lush gardens he found himself before another monumental edifice, pearly pink marble shining in the sun. Dozens of women and men strolled through the gardens or sat in the shade of the portico. Many others moved in and out of the temple entrance, chatting happily and smiling. Music floated from inside in sensuous rhythms that caught at his heartbeat and tempted him to move in time to it. As with Ba'al’s temple a strong scent of incense wrapped around him as they approached the open arched doors, but this was even stronger, stirring his blood and muddling his senses with alarming ease.

Trying to neither stare nor look offended by the act, Daniel turned his attention to other alcoves secreted along the marble walls, and found nearly all of them were occupied with people laying together or bargaining for the favours of the priestesses. Not all the customers were male, either. He looked for Ba'al and found him some distance further into the temple, heading for a large gold door. Daniel drifted after him, soaking in the details of the temple and its occupants as they went about their daily business. It was obvious that the worship and offerings taking place here were founded on long-standing traditions, and again were of a nature that he found completely unexpected. The few priests of Apophis he had seen in action seemed solely focused on devotionals to their god. They hadn’t seemed interested in any kind of contact with the human population other than converting them into symbiote carriers. Here, humans were dealing openly and intimately with the priests.

 _Are they Goa'uld too?_ He peered at one as she poured fragrant oil into a bowl on one of the altars. Impossible to tell unless her eyes lit up. He didn’t have Junior or Sam’s Snakey Sense as Jack had labelled it, to rely upon. The woman smiled seductively at him. Like the rest, she wore filmy robes that did little to conceal the voluptuous curves of her body. Her hair was intricately coiled and dressed with strands of pearls. She sized him up with one glance and tilted her head in open invitation. He gave her an almost apologetic smile and moved on, dodging around a line of ten people, dancing in a conga-line.

Others were dancing too. Barely clothed women performed sensuous belly dances, their skin rippling and undulating as they moved to the beat of drums and cymbals. A few men also danced and Daniel noted the differences between these and the… worshipers. They were very alike, slender, bare-chested, dressed only in loose pants slit to the thigh. Their skin was smooth, all hair removed except from their heads where oiled ringlets bounced and swung in time to their movements. He walked closer to one of them, almost hypnotised by the rhythmic movement of the man’s body.

“There you are!” Ba'al’s call broke his concentration. He looked up and found the Goa'uld advancing on him, his arm extended and supporting the hand of – an astonishing woman.

She wasn’t beautiful, just an average sort of pretty. Nowhere near as lovely as Sha’re. But there was an aura about her, some indefinable presence that caught his attention and stopped the breath in his throat. Maybe it was the deep green eyes, or the dark hair that glinted with shades of burnt umber, or the pale white skin that gleamed under the transparent green dress. She wasn’t slim, quite full-figured in fact. He realised her body shape was mirrored by the priestesses. Unlike the rest of the women he had seen today she wasn’t adorned with jewellery, she wore only a twisted strand of lapis beads around her right wrist. There was a scent surrounding her that made him want to reach out and…. Daniel backed up a couple of steps.

Ba'al flourished grandly and said, “Daniel Jackson, emissary of the Tau’ri, you stand in the presence of Our consort and first love, the lady Astarte.”

Daniel stared at him, not quite believing the smirk of satisfaction on the Goa'uld’s face.

Ba'al turned to the woman and his expression quickly changed to one of infatuation. “Beloved, We present to you Daniel Jackson, the young human who will help Us bring Our people to a new age of prosperity.” He smiled tenderly at her with long-held affection, then looked back at Daniel expectantly.

“Uh, um, hello.”

Astarte glided forward, her eyes pinning Daniel’s. She looked him over carefully, studying every feature of his body and face. He squirmed a little and tried to come up with something to say, but what kind of pleasantries do you say to a Goa'uld? She looked up at him, searching for something, then said in a soft voice, “Is it you?”

 _Well, yes. Obviously._ What?

Puzzled, he looked over at Ba'al. He didn’t seem surprised by the odd question, just nodded encouragingly at Daniel.

“I….”

“It is not for you to lay with Ourself.”

 _Oh, boy._ “Pardon?” He backed up a couple more steps and glared at Ba'al over her shoulder.

“Our Lady means that she does not expect you to lay with her priestesses,” Ba'al explained. The alarm on Daniel’s face made him explain that one further. “The priestesses are the vehicles of our Lady’s creative life. The people come to share in that life by joining with them and receiving Her blessings.”

“Oh.” _And she doesn’t want me. Thank god._ “Right. Nice to meet you.” He looked around, wondering if Ba'al would let him get away with just walking out of here. A hand brushed his chest, making him jump. He looked down. Astarte was hovering right in front of him. He had the distinct impression she was… sniffing him.

“Return to me.”

“Come, Beloved.” Ba'al gathered her up and turned her toward a clutch of priestesses waiting behind them. “The time draws near for devotionals.” He delivered her into the hands of the women and stood watching her retreat into the room at the far end of the temple. He looked at Daniel with a proud smile on his face. “Is she not delightful? Truly we are blessed with her presence every day.”

Daniel blinked at him. He was no real judge of Goa'uld personality, but the female just didn’t seem all there to him.

“We have much yet to see, Daniel. Come along.” Ba'al steered him through the crowd and back out into the open air.

Questions tumbled in his head as they took another path, angling upward along the river. All around they passed happy people going about their business, passing in and out of the temples armed with offerings, laughing and smiling. Their worship of the ‘gods’ seemed to be based upon a historical version of human worship with many features of the Phoenician culture still very evident. Nowhere had he seen chambers of baby Goa'uld, or even any representation of the true form of the Goa'uld. Perhaps thousands of years pretending to be human had erased any recognition of their real selves. His mind kept returning to Chulak and the priests there going about their business tending to the young symbiotes. _Why is Ba'al so different?_

He snuck a look at the Goa'uld, striding ahead of him, greeting passers by with a smile or a nod. “Does Astarte rule your… empire with you? Or is it a one god only set up?”

“Our Beloved Astarte rules the hearts and souls of Our people, Daniel. As she rules Our own heart, soul and body.”

 _How very condescending. And it isn’t_ your _body._

“So, she has no say in the affairs of Ba'al?” A memory of Amonet at Apophis’ side flashed into his head but he crushed it ruthlessly.

Ba'al looked back at him, surprise clear on his face. “Our Beloved concerns herself with Our people, but We would never do anything that was contrary to her wishes.”

“Right.” Further questions were halted as the lush gardens gave way to another open space, green with lawns and bright with a riot of flowering plants. At the far end lay the third temple, built of a beautiful honey coloured marble and half hidden under the trees and vines that grew around it. At the foot of a stone bridge leading up to the entrance, an opening in the natural rock that the temple was built into revealed a small grotto. From it the clear water filling the river burbled out, fed by an underground spring. Tucked into crevices in the rock and spread on the grass were offerings of grains and flowers twisted into little figures. Lit candles flickered in the shady gloom. He glanced at it but his attention was captured by another garden ornament.

In the centre of the garden stood a statue, fifty feet high, burnished gold shining brilliantly in the afternoon sun.

Daniel gaped at it, finally seeing the physical icon that had been missing everywhere else in this city of Goa'uld. The figure at the centre of the statue was a male, beautifully formed, his muscles defined and the strong, clean length of his limbs attesting to vibrant life and health. His face was sweet, gently smiling under a mop of curly hair. His arms were outstretched – embracing both the sun above and the people below. It was a wonderful piece of art, were it not for the two massive snakes, entwined from either side to wrap around the man from feet to crown, their heads poised to either side of his. They faced each other, giving the impression of connivance, of possession of the man, of power barely contained. The hair on Daniel’s nape rose up in warning.

“Magnificent, is it not, Daniel?” Ba'al called, almost skipping across the grass.

“Not the word I’d use,” he muttered. He followed Ba'al, staring up at the figures with a mix of awe and foreboding. “Founded in Phoenician mythology,” he stated. “Paintings have been found of the god Eshmun standing between two snakes. It was also attributed to Aesculepius, who was probably Eshmun redefined in cities other than Sidon. It was adopted by the Greeks and in later civilizations as a caduceus, a symbol of the healing professions. Which is… ironic.”

“Ah, the Greeks! We never liked them. Always stealing Our skills, Our territories. One of the reasons We left your fair planet, Daniel. We much prefer Our home here.”

Daniel stared at him, eyebrows rising. Not since Ra had he heard a Goa'uld openly admit to living on Earth.

Ba'al reached over and latched onto his arm. “Come along, and see the memorial to Our dearly departed Eshmun.”

The crowds wandering this temple were even thicker than those around Astarte’s, but here the offerings were not material. People were – gardening. Everywhere, people of all ages, from little children to the very elderly were digging, weeding, planting, trimming and tidying the flower-beds and bushes. As they walked under the grape vines entwined around the entrance pillars, Daniel could see that the interior of the temple resembled an enormous hot house. The roof was clear glass, supported by decorative steel trusses fashioned as tree limbs. Below, the entire floor was given over to nature. Beds of vegetables and flowers fronted taller bushes groaning under the weight of massive blooms. Ranged along the walls were full-grown trees, lending their shade to the ferns and uncountable plants beneath. Dirt paths wound through in random directions and a small creek burbled along, feeding small ponds and miniature waterfalls. The air was heavy with the scent of fertile earth, pollen and a pure freshness that revived the flagging energy that Daniel had not even registered.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Truly a fitting testament to Eshmun. His life and death brought such great fertility to this land that it has never waned, in all the time We have been here.”

Suddenly tired, Daniel wondered just how a human’s life or death could achieve such a thing. “This is all very impressive, Ba'al. I’d be very interested in hearing the story behind your involvement with Eshmun.”

“Ah, it is a tale that deserves a proper telling, Daniel. We would not do it justice to tell you now. Perhaps you have walked enough today? We do not wish to tire you as we have much to discuss and plans to oversee for a dinner We wish you to attend tomorrow night.”

“Dinner?”

“A celebration to welcome Earth’s emissary to Our home.”

“That’s not necessary, considering the method of fetching me here.”

“And it is for that reason We wish to fete you, and apologise for the way you have been treated. Also, We wish to introduce you Our consorts and Our retinue.”

Daniel felt a chill run up his back. He really hoped that didn’t mean more Goa'uld.

“Now, let us return to the palace and enjoy a quiet meal.” Ba'al strode off, leaving Daniel no choice but to follow behind.

 

 

Outside once more, he caught up to Ba'al standing on the lawns. From the foot of the statue they had a magnificent view of the city, stretched out down the hillside, green and blue roofs dotted amongst the trees. The river ran beside them, escaping from a large pool to tumble down the hill, here and there filling other ponds and pools until it emptied into the sea. Daniel could see the ships in the harbour, the castle gleaming orange in the light of the setting sun. It all looked so peaceful, so – friendly. He desperately wanted to believe Ba'al’s story, to know that the people living here were doing so of their own free will.

 _Maybe they are. Maybe this really is the true foundation of Goa'uld power. All this commerce, transport systems, agriculture – it depends on a base of people willingly living for their god. Perhaps Ra’s home world, wherever it was, was more like Tsydon. Abydos was never like this. The Abydonians provided the raw materials that allow a city like this to thrive. They were slaves, they could rebel and be replaced. They lived in slavery and served their purpose. But a home world like this… the people have to give their lives and their love freely for it to prosper like this._

 _Teal’c…. He was based on Chulak, but Apophis didn’t live there. All those years of searching for Sha’re and Skaara, we never found his home.  He was secretive, like Ra. His home world was hidden, even from his First Prime. The Jaffa manned his ships and fought his wars but they were never allowed on the home world. Little wonder – if it was like this they would have rebelled thousands of years ago._

 _Which brings us back to Ba'al. He’s showing me all this now. Why? Is he really serious about peace?_

 _What are you plotting?_

Daniel followed the Goa'uld down the hill, his thoughts churning, unease and uncertainty settling on him like doom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Dinner With Devils

The scent of warm oranges wrapped around Daniel’s dreams and drew him back to the waking world. He yawned hugely and with an effort, opened his eyes. Memories filtered back – an exotic city, happy people working their trades, temples, flowers… Goa’uld. He darted a glance either side of the bed, relieved to see he was alone this time. He yawned again, curiously tired considering he had gone to sleep soon after the conclusion of the intimate little dinner with Ba'al.

Daniel rolled his head to the left and looked at the private dining room, now revealed behind the once hidden wall-door Kosharta had ushered them through. It opened onto an extension of his own balcony, its turquoise curtains batting playfully in the breeze. The delicate orange blossom scent brushed past again and he followed it, rolling slowly to the side of the bed. He pushed himself upright, grabbed a silk wrap and wound it around his hips.

 _Seems pjs, along with underwear, haven’t evolved on Ba'al’s Brave New Planet._ He gave a puritanical sniff and shuffled off to the bathroom.

Or should that be Bath Room? He shook his head at the enormous sunken tub/swimming pool/creek. The far wall of the room sported a constant waterfall, burbling down over shiny blue stones set in the wall to run along a channel into the bath which was an irregular-shaped pool, also lined with the blue stones and surrounded by potted ferns and flowering creepers that crawled up the walls and hung tendrils from the roof. It was like a mini rainforest. Daniel extended a toe and tested the water flowing through the channel. It was warm, just under body temperature and slightly effervescent. Tempted, he dropped the wrap and stepped down into the pond – bath – whatever.

The water enveloped him, simultaneously soothing and invigorating. He ducked his head under, holding his breath for long moments. Rising to the surface, he rolled onto his back and drifted, eyes closed, as the tension and uncertainty and fear of the previous day seeped away. He remained that way for a long time, brain on hold, thinking of nothing.

Finally he sensed the presence of someone nearby. He peered through half-open eyes and saw Ba'al, with a smirk on his face, standing at the entrance to the room. Daniel jack-knifed his body and stood up in the water.

“Fair morn, Daniel.”

“Yeah. Hi.” He surreptitiously looked around for a towel but couldn’t see any.

“We trust your sleep was peaceful?”

“It was. Thank you.”

Ba'al looked down at him with the faintly amused look on his face which Daniel could never properly place as either condescension or genuine humour. “Our cooks have provided lunch for you on the terrace. If you permit, We shall await you there.”

“Oh – uh, wait…. Lunch?”

“The sun is high in the sky, Daniel. We are glad you were able to find the rest your body needed after the rigours of you journey here.” Ba'al inclined his head and strolled out of the room.

Daniel stood staring at the empty archway, bemused and a little uneasy. He _never_ slept through half the day, even after the most trying missions. Then again, he had been suspended in an unnatural state for, well he didn’t know how long, but that kind of thing had to mess up a guy’s sleep patterns. He splashed up the steps of the pool and hunted for a towel. There was nothing that looked like one, even hiding under the ferns. Puzzled, he stood dripping on the rough stone floor. There weren’t even any shelves or cupboards. Surely every society that engaged in personal bathing possessed the means to dry off? Particularly one that had such lavish baths. A gold fixture on one wall caught his eye. Stylised in the shape of four wavy lines, almost art-deco in design. Cautiously, he reached out and touched it.

From the floor and ceiling, cross-angled to come at him from every direction, delicious warm air wafted around his body, softly drying away the moisture on his skin and hair. Daniel smiled in surprise, lifted his arms and enjoyed the sensation. When he was completely dry and tingly the blowers cut off automatically. He walked back to the bedroom in search of clothing.

Elsh was there, patiently standing with hands clasped in front of him.

“Oh.” Daniel stopped short, aware he was – once again – naked in front of a stranger.

“Fair morn, Daniel Jackson,” Elsh greeted him, face impassive as ever. “My lord god Ba'al bade me to attend to your needs while you are guesting in his home. I have selected some clothes.” He indicated a sea-green shirt and pants laid out on a settee. “Do they please you? I can fetch others if they are unsuitable.”

“I’m sure they’re fine.” Daniel strode over to the settee and pulled the pants on. “And, thank you, but I don’t need a servant.”

“My lord god Ba'al bids me serve you, Daniel, and so I shall.”

“Right… what else would you do?” Daniel muttered sarcastically. Obviously the guy was still working on that total-obedience-will-be-rewarded-with-a-snake plan. He pulled on the loose shirt and padded out onto the balcony.

 

The twenty-foot wide expanse of polished marble was bordered by curling wrought-iron balustrades, which supported a shady verandah of flowering clematis and looked out over an elegant jumble of other balconies: isolated gardens clinging to the white walls, ponds, trees and in the distance through a gap between two sections of palace, Daniel caught a glimpse of the main gates. Orange and cumquat trees bloomed in large glazed pots, all heavy with flowers and fruit. Half-hidden in the greenery, Ba'al reclined in a padded couch set about with small tables laden with food.

“The potted fish is particularly good this season,” he commented.

Daniel perched on the end of another couch. He cut a slice of a pie layered with different vegetables and nibbled it bit by bit, aware that Ba'al was watching him with that intense, interested look.

When the pie had finally been consumed, he looked up at the Goa'uld. “So.”

Ba'al’s smile deepened.

“What do you have planned for today? Visiting a school? The elderly? Maybe tour a hospital? Or don’t the people of Tsydon get sick?” Daniel found his irritation building as Ba'al’s stare turned speculative.

“We shall do as We promised, Daniel. You shall record a message to your people and We will despatch it with all haste.”

“You could just send me home, you know,” Daniel replied, a tone of not-wholly-unintentional steel creeping into his voice.

“We do appreciate your frustration, Daniel. We hope that soon you will see the importance of the task We are undertaking.”

“Well, forgive me if I’m sceptical. Most of your _kind_ that I’ve met have been more interested in trying to kill me, not talking to me.”

“May we enquire exactly who amongst the System Lords you have met, Daniel?”

Daniel poured himself a glass of the cider he was swiftly becoming attached to, and sank back into the couch. “System Lords I have met,” he mused. “Well, there was Ra, as you know.”

“Yes. Tell Us, what do you remember of Ra? He was ever a recluse and difficult to draw into alliances.”

Daniel shrugged. “Well, we met, he killed me, brought me back to life, we chatted, then we blew him up. Not much to say really. Where was I? Ah, yes, then there was Apophis… lyin’, scheming’, no-good-for-nothin’, slimey, over-dressed stylemonger-” He cut off the rant with a pang in his chest, aware he was suddenly channelling Jack.

Ba’al let out a bright laugh. “Yes, he is one We have never had much time for. Tell Us, Apophis has not been heard of or seen for some time. Do you think We should seek him out and enquire if he will support Our plan for peace?”

Daniel felt his face turn stony. He got up and walked over to the balcony. “He’s dead.”

“Dead?” Ba'al didn’t sound overly upset.

“Well, I doubt even a Goa'uld could survive an uncontrolled descent into Netu on a Hat’ak crawling with Replicators. Do you?”

“No. I would find that improbable.” There was an undertone of glee in Ba'al’s voice.

“In fact, most Goa'uld I’ve met are dead, now,” Daniel bit out, impatience rising. “Sokar, Cronus, Klorel – well, he’s in a jar somewhere, hopefully – Amonet, Hathor. In fact, I’m seeing a pattern here….” He glared at Ba'al.

“Hathor?” Ba'al leaned forward, puzzlement creasing his face. “We had heard a rumour of her return from exile.”

Daniel shrugged and turned back to the view. He wasn’t about to give Ba'al any more information he didn’t already have.

“Well, no matter. We have a number of allies who will stand by Us in Our bid for peace. Including Yu, whom We believe you also have met. To that end,” Ba'al trailed off. He stood and Daniel turned to look at him. “We have communications We must attend to. This evening We would be most pleased if you would grace Us with your presence at a banquet – in your honour – where We may introduce you to the members of Our court and household.”

Daniel sighed, annoyance building in him. “Can’t we just get this over with?”

Ba'al moved to stand in front of him, just a little too close for comfort. “We have heard you are an accomplished diplomat for your people, Daniel. You must appreciate that negotiations such as those We are now engaging in, will take time but the result shall be more than compensatory.”

Daniel leaned back against the balcony. “I don’t seem to have much say in the matter, do I?”

“Ah, but you shall, Daniel. Your involvement is crucial, and I guarantee you shall have many things to say before the completion of our project.”

Daniel frowned, uncertain, but Ba'al turned and walked back into the suite of rooms.

“We shall leave you under the care of Our Consort, Helel, for the day and rejoin you at dinner tonight.” Ba'al swept through the bedroom, caressed the shoulder of a young man standing in the lounge area, and was gone before Daniel could speak.

 

“Greetings, Daniel Jackson. I am Helel. It is my honour to be escort for my Lord’s treasured guest today.”

 _“Consort?”_ Daniel blinked. Unexpected, but not unsurprising. The Goa'uld had always seemed drawn to anyone fair and attractive. Gender boundaries would be no deterrent to them.

“Yes,” Helel answered in a pleasant voice. He stood as tall as Daniel, his slender, toned limbs visible beneath thin cotton pants and a translucent white shirt, its long sleeves slit from the shoulder to drape down to his knees.

“I thought Astarte was Ba'al’s consort?”

“My Lady Goddess is prime Consort of our Lord, of course. I have the honour to be given my Lord’s favour and the position of Companion of the Court.” Helel smiled shyly, long eyelashes batting over green eyes. His auburn hair curled down over his shoulders and glinted here and there with small diamond fancies.

Daniel sat down on a settee and pulled on a pair of soft sandals left for him by Elsh. They fitted perfectly. “Are there other Companions of the Court?” he asked, standing up and regarding the man curiously.

“Yes. At present we are six in number, now Marah has been elevated from the rank of Concubine.” Encouraged by the interested look on Daniel’s face, Helel went on. “The Concubines are six, seven if one includes The Prize.”

“The _Prize?”_

“One who is most fortunate indeed to be included in such a prosperous household as our Lord’s. Will you walk with me, Daniel? Arrangements have been made for you to record a message to your people.”

“Sure.” Daniel swallowed the next dozen questions on his lips and followed Helel as he walked gracefully out of the room.

Out in the vast corridor, he faltered as the troop of guards who had accompanied him the previous day, stiffened to attention and fell into step behind him. Helel payed no attention to them and indicated to Daniel to join him as he proceeded down the hall.

 _One man’s honour guard is another man’s prison escort._

Daniel pushed the thought away and focused on his guide. The people they passed all seemed to know him, offering smiles or a polite bow of the head in greeting. They moved through the quiet corridors of the residential wing into other wings increasingly populated with men and women bustling to and fro with the occupied air of people hard at work. Open doors gave Daniel the opportunity to glance in on what looked very much like offices, all humming with activity as people worked at data screens, their benches littered with electronic tablets and piles of bound books, a flotilla of communication balls hovering in mid air.

Helel noticed Daniel’s interest. “They are the administrators of our Lord’s territories. They oversee the trade of food and goods between the settlements and Tsydon. A very involved process, as you can see.”

“How many territories does Ba'al own?” Daniel paused to let a group of six people walk into one of the offices. From the snatches of conversation he caught the familiar dialect of what he had christened Lower Goa'uld – the language of those who kept the empires of the System Lords running. Interesting, because the men and women he had met yesterday in the city all seemed to speak a language that was firmly rooted in Phoenician.

Helel gave a bemused laugh. “Why, Daniel, I am astonished to admit I do not know exactly. My Lord’s planets are many, his territory vast, his devoted people number in millions. I regret I cannot answer your question.” He stopped at the entrance to another room, noticeably quieter and more dimly illuminated than the others. “Here is our Lord’s communications centre.”

Daniel edged past him and into a large circular room, its few occupants framed by open windows along the far wall. A quiet murmur filled the air, stemming from the dozens of tele-balls that hovered, active and bearing many different faces, over banks of recording devices. An attractive woman of middle years left her post and approached them.

“Honoured, gracious ones,” she said, bowing deeply to Helel. “I am Tannin. My Lord’s instructions have been received and all is prepared for you.” She turned to Daniel and bowed again. “Honoured guest of our Lord. The recording apparatus stands ready for you.” She ushered them towards a dimly lit alcove, away from the others in the room.

Taking Daniel’s arm, she manoeuvred him to stand in the centre of the alcove. “We will record your words, Honoured One, and they will be stored for later viewing in a shat’nel. Will the people of your homeworld know how to retrieve the message?” She extended her hand bearing a flat oblong device with a crystal in its centre, very much like the one on which Narim had used to send his plea for help for Tollana.

“Yes, I think they will.” Daniel blinked as Tannin nodded and activated a beam of light that shone down over him.

“Please direct your words here,” she said, indicating a small panel of instruments on one wall. She then bowed her head and backed away. Helel, too, retreated, leaving Daniel in privacy.

He straightened up, hands automatically seeking shelter in pockets that didn’t exist. Self-conscious, he wrapped his arms around his chest and flicked a small smile at the unseen cameras. Any number of things that he wanted to say were on the tip of his tongue, but considering he didn’t trust Ba'al would keep his word and get the recording to the SGC, let alone keep it out of other System Lord’s hands, he thought carefully for a while before speaking.

“This is Doctor Daniel Jackson. Some, I guess, days ago I was abducted from the streets of New York City. The person behind my abduction was the Goa'uld, Ba'al. I am now in his home city of Tsydon. I am well and unconfined. Apparently, I have the freedom to roam the palace and the city.

“Uh, the reason Ba'al wanted me here…. He _says_ he wants to call a truce with the Tau’ri. He _claims_ he has a number of System Lords allied with him, that they’re all tired of the loss of lives and fighting, and he wants me to broker a treaty between them and us.” Daniel slid a glance over at Helel and Tannin but they appeared to be out of hearing range.

“I can imagine what Jack is saying about now, and I have to agree with him. This is only my second day here, I don’t know what to believe, but Ba'al has allowed this message as a show of good faith, so…. I’d appreciate acknowledgement that the SGC has received this and also, I’d like to know how my favourite major doctor is.

“This is Daniel Jackson, signing off.” He unfolded his arms and half-waved at the recorder. “Bye.”

He sighed, resisting the urge to yell, “Get me the hell out of here.”

Seeing he had finished, Helel and Tannin came forward. Tannin fiddled with the machinery for a moment, then turned and presented a message player to Helel. He activated it and a mini-holographic Daniel popped up, his words audible and exactly as he had said them.

“Is this to your satisfaction, Daniel?” Helel queried.

“Yes, its fine,” Daniel nodded. “How is it going to be delivered?”

“One of our Lord’s ships stands ready to deliver it to a planet where there are known Tok’ra operatives working. My Lord’s warriors will approach the Tok’ra under a sign of truce and request they deliver it to your people.”

“And what proof will I have that it gets delivered?”

“My Lord sends his warriors with a request to the Tok’ra that they return with an answer from your people, Daniel. You shall have your proof as quickly as possible.”

Feeling deeply sceptical, Daniel could only accept the man’s word and hope he was being told the truth.

Helel handed the player back to Tannin and with a respectful bow she summoned one of the palace guard and handed her the message. Daniel watched it disappear out the doorway and wondered if it really would get to its proper destination and bring some measure of comfort to his anxious friends.

 

 

The rest of the afternoon passed in a pleasant tour of the palace. Helel proved to be an enjoyable companion, providing stories of the palace and its occupants as he took Daniel through all manner of rooms, from the busy administration area to the echoing empty throne room with its intricate stained glass designs throwing brilliant colours across the polished floor. Miles of brightly-lit corridors gave on to elegant reception rooms with tables for two to two hundred; kitchens staffed by dozens of cooks, all working feverishly over banks of ovens, open fires and high-tech cookers; workshops of all kinds supporting the smooth running of the vast palace and its plenitude of inhabitants.

As they passed a group of workers on their knees, carefully hand-polishing the inlaid wooden floor of a sitting room on one of the residential floors, Daniel finally voiced a question that had been niggling him for a while.

“All the servants who work here – are they slaves?”

Helel glanced at him, clearly shocked by the idea. “No. Oh, not at all, Daniel. All the good people employed in our Lord’s home are free citizens of Tsydon. They give their labour to their god and are handsomely rewarded with the means to support their families. They are all free to leave His service should they ever wish.”

A middle-aged man nearby caught Daniel looking dubiously at him and smiled. “The Gracious Helel speaks truly, Adon. We are most fortunate to give our service to our god.” He gave Daniel a broad, friendly smile.

“I hope I didn’t offend you,” Daniel replied. “This is all a bit unfamiliar to me.”

“Not possible, Honoured Guest. Fair day to you.” The man smiled and grinned, and as Daniel wandered on after Helel, the man turned to exchange excited whispers with his colleagues.

 

Helel returned Daniel to his suite in the late afternoon. The rooms felt naturally cool despite the hot air stirring the long curtains along the balcony windows. Kosharta was waiting for them, not very patiently, and shooed Helel out the door before Daniel could thank him for being his guide.

“Enough!” she barked, slamming the door on Helel’s words of farewell. “I have waited long enough. You both must bathe and dress, now, for I will not have my Lord’s guest arrive late for his own feasting.” She shoved a glass of cold liquid at Daniel, then grabbed one arm and towed him toward the bath room.

“Again with the bathing?” Daniel sipped the sour lemon drink. “Oh, that’s nice. I thought Elsh was assigned to attend me?” He slapped the woman’s hands as she attempted to unfasten his pants.

“The Lo’taur must attend his master’s preparations tonight.” She snatched the empty glass out of his hand and yanked open the fastenings on his shirt. Moving behind him, she pulled the shirt off him with one quick movement. “I, of course, being chief housekeeper, have nothing better to do than primp and pamper young humans. She grabbed his right leg, pulled it up and dragged the sandal off his foot.

Daniel hopped wildly for balance, trying not to grab at the Goa'uld as she did the same with the left leg. “I can take my own clothes off…. Hey!” He grabbed but she was too quick and his pants were yanked to his knees. Her firm shove on his shoulder sent him toppling backwards to land on a bench by the pool. His pants were whisked away and Kosharta was striding out of the room before his angry splutters could form into coherent words.

“I shall return in five minutes to dress you,” she called. The outer door slammed, leaving him seething in the silence.

“Who _are_ these people? The Goa'uld _I_ know don’t act like this. Do they?” He padded down the steps into the water and began to lather up.

The Goa'uld he and SG-1 had encountered previously had mostly been interested in extracting information or just plain trying to kill him. They’d never spent time on a Goa'uld’s home planet… well – Hathor excepted, and that situation had never made sense to him. He rinsed off and headed for the blow-dryers. He’d never bought the explanation that Hathor had gone to the considerable effort and expense of reconstructing the SGC merely to fool Jack, Sam and himself into revealing the state of the galaxy’s politics. That was information she could have found with a few well-placed spies in other System Lords’ camps. No – she had been after something else…. He ran his hands through his drying hair and grimaced. The cow had even cut his hair – and he felt again the embarrassment of returning home with a brand new ‘do’ that _everyone_ had noticed.

The outer door slammed again, jerking him out of his reverie. He went back into the suite to find Kosharta impatient and glaring, standing amidst a swathe of pearly grey material laid out on a settee. He walked toward her, naked and uncaring under her critical eye.

“Where are all these outfits coming from?” Daniel ran his hand over the sumptuous fabric, its pattern of dragonflies in flight rising from the weave and highlighted by threads of silver and clusters of moonstones.

“My Lord’s tailors have been working ceaselessly to provide his Guest with the finest examples of their labour since you arrived. She shook out a pair of pants, silkily black and bearing the same woven design as the grey. “Quickly, now.”

Daniel took the pants and pulled them on, the gentle slide of the material against his skin bringing a smile to his face. Kosharta thrust the grey garment at him. Slipping into it, a high collar settling just under his ears, the rich cloth lay lightly on his shoulders and fell to mid-calf length. It was devoid of buttons or other fastenings, but Kosharta homed in on him, slapping his hands out of the way and securing two large, blue enamelled brooches either side of his chest and joining them with a solid gold chain. It kept the garment from flapping open but there was still a good expanse of bare skin on display.

“That’s it?” Daniel frowned.

“These.” She thrust a pair of heavily ornamented sandals at him and managed to attack his hair with a heavy brush as he sat to pull them on.

 _“Ow._ I can brush my own hair, dammit. _”_

She ignored him, dragged him to his feet and propelled him to the door. She shoved him out into the hallway and into the midst of his guard, then pushed past them all and hurried away.

Daniel blinked self-consciously at the guard.Different faces from those who had escorted him all day. They too were dressed in their finery – a livery of deep purple tunics, leggings and boots, silvery sword scabbards flashing in the evening light that slanted through the skylights.

Their leader, a striking woman who stood a couple of inches taller than he, drew her troop to attention with barely a gesture. She bowed deeply to Daniel, her chestnut hair swinging over her shoulder in a thick, tight plait. “Honoured Guest of Our Lord God Ba'al. Allow these humble servants to guide your steps to our Lord’s banquet.”

“Uhm… sure. And, call me Daniel.”

“As you wish, Honoured Guest.” She looked at him with a twinkle in her eye. “This one is called Resheph, Master of Our Lord’s garrison and commander of the Rephaim, his personal guard.”

“Pleased to meet you,” he said. Daniel walked at her side as she strode along the corridor, the guard falling into step behind them, silent but looming.

“Forgive me for asking, but… are you Jaffa, Resheph?”

She solemnly inclined her head. “I have that honour, Adon.”

“The Rephaim, they seem different to other Jaffa warriors I’ve met.” The old Phoenician word meant ‘shades’, giving these soldiers a slightly more sinister aspect.

“The Rephaim are our Lord’s personal guard on Tsydon. The security of the palace and the home world is our prime function. The Jaffa of your acquaintance have most probably been members of off-world squads. They secure the Lord’s fleet and colonies. Rarely do our two forces unite, except when accompanying our Lord on occasions of state importance.”

“I see.” Something else nagged at him as they passed through the grand entrance hall, walking through the coloured shafts of light cast by the stained glass. “You called me Adon….” The word was another of ancient Phoenician origin, the root of the Greek Adonis, meaning lord.

“I’m not a lord,” he added. For some reason he needed to make that clear, to have people recognise his true status – a human, free of will and giving allegiance only to whom he chose, and an unwilling guest here. For all intents and purposes, still a prisoner of Ba'al.

Resheph looked at him curiously. “It is a title bestowing respect and honour, that is all. Its formal use has long since waned among our people. Some of the workers have referred to you as ‘The Adon’, and it seems to be spreading.”

She halted and Daniel looked away from her guarded expression to find himself before two enormous doors of black marble, each heavily carved with sinuous serpents, writhing, twisting into knots – almost as if they were seeking dominance over each other. Daniel felt his mouth drop open, admiration of the artistry warring with a creeping unease.

The doors swung open, silent and effortlessly despite their obvious weight. Resheph and her Rephaim stepped back, snapped to attention and drew their swords with a glittering ring of steel on steel. They swept the swords forward, arcing around him in a semi-circle to poise, unwavering, over his head in an impressive, somewhat chilling salute.

 

 

“All honour be given!”

Daniel started and jerked his head around at the imposing voice. By the open doors a striking woman in an elegant, sweeping black gown stood ready to receive him, her face stern and unforgiving. He froze, uncertain that he wanted to get any nearer to her.

Without glancing at him, she loudly proclaimed, “The esteemed guest of our Lord God Ba'al, Daniel Jackson, Explorer, Emissary of the Tau’ri, Bringer of peace, be welcomed to the presence of our Lord.”

She extended her hand and Daniel inched through the doors, cautiously reaching out his own hand. The woman tucked her hand under his and finally met his eye. “This one is Tanit, Honoured Guest. Allow The Face of Ba'al to escort you to our Lord.”

“Uh, thank you. Hello,” he added belatedly.

Despite being a couple of inches shorter than him, the force of Tanit’s personality seemed to reach out and eclipse everything nearby. As she drew him into the room beyond, Daniel finally became aware of its enormous proportions. Black marble floor spread out like a shiny, solid lake to meet walls of the same slick, black stone that arced upwards into a dome nearly lost in shadows high above. The walls were as heavily carved as the doors; serpents of every size twisted up the rounded walls and in the flickering light of dozens of fires contained by the intricate metal mesh of braziers - standing on poles or hanging from chains that vanished into the shadows of the dome - the snakes came alive, no matter where he turned his head, in the corner of his eye they… moved.

Concentrating on the walls, Daniel didn’t register the only occupant of the room until Tanit halted and dropped to one knee in an elegant curtsey. Turning his head, Daniel saw Ba'al, curled on huge mounds of cushions, a bright smile lighting his face.

“Daniel! We are greatly pleased to have this feast for you this evening. Come, sit, relax with Us.” Ba'al uncoiled and stood in a manner wholly reminiscent of the murals on the walls.

“Just hope you’re not planning to feast on _me,_ ” Daniel muttered under his breath.

Ba'al directed him to a large, pearly grey cushion on his right and Daniel sank, sitting cross-legged, spine stiff – definitely _not_ relaxing.

Tanit faded away into the dim light leaving Ba'al to plop down beside him, happily chatting about his busy day and the tiresome demands of business and politics. Daniel tuned him out, distracted by the – hopefully – imaginary movement on the walls, and by the awful realisation that only the two of them were in this vast place. Surely he hadn’t been dressed and delivered to a dinner with only Ba'al for company?

“I thought your ‘court’ were going to be here?”

“Ah! Come they shall, and We will be most proud to seat them in your presence, my dear Daniel.” Ba'al leaned close to him. “Does our banquet chamber not fill you with wonder?”

“Well… it’s certainly… big. Don’t you think you overdid it with the snakes, though?”

Ba'al grinned and managed to look almost sheepish. “It is a favoured theme of Ours, one that speaks of our ancestors and reminds us of Our humble origins.”

Daniel raised one eyebrow. Ba'al was anything but humble. He looked away and now saw the rows of cushions and low tables arrayed in a fan shape in front of them. Beyond, the imposing doors swung open and Tanit stepped forward, silhouetted by the light outside.

“All honour to our Lord!” Tanit announced. “Cherished Companions of the court of our Lord approach. The Consorts of Ba'al.” She stepped back and bowed to the men and women walking gracefully in single file. Ba'al rose to his feet, smiling, arms outstretched. Daniel rose. He recognised Helel, fourth of the six entering the room. All were dressed totally in black, their clothes exotic, filmy and revealing. Glints of red flashed and sparkled as they moved – firelight catching on the abundant jewellery adorning ears, necks, arms, wrists, ankles, even hair. As they approached, Daniel realised the red came from rubies of all shapes and sizes – breathtaking and radiant. They halted and spread along the first row of seating, some with eyes only for Ba'al, others looking curiously and without malice at Daniel.

Ba'al moved to the woman who had led them in. “Daniel Jackson, We present Anath, first of rank of Our consorts, Our sister and treasured companion.”

Daniel blinked and bowed his head. The woman, petite and raven haired, gave him an assessing look and curtseyed.

Ba'al moved to the next, a young man, barely past twenty Daniel guessed, slender and elegant in a long kilt and wispy shirt. “Second of our heart, Yarikh, lamp of Heaven. Yarikh is also Our chief astronomer.”

“Third of rank, Our daughter, Arsay, who lightens Our spirits with her presence.” This girl, of medium height, smiled at Daniel with brilliant green eyes that pierced right through his defences and had him smiling back.

“Fourth is Helel, Light Bringer and Our joy.” Helel wore only a gauzy pair of pants that didn’t quite reach his hipbones, and a black lace scarf wound about his neck, its long length trailing down his back and supporting a two-inch wide pear-shaped ruby at his throat. He smiled happily at Daniel, then at Ba'al with obvious love in his eyes.

“Fifth, Nikkal, the fruit of Our earth, and Sixth, Marah, the bounty of Our waters.”

Both beautiful women darted shy glances at Daniel, then sat in a settling cloud of black gossamer silks. Ba'al drew Daniel back to their own cushions and the doors swung open once more.

“All honour to our Lord.” Tanit heralded the arrival of another group of men and women. “Prized Concubines of our Lord.” This time she accompanied the procession to the seating and introduced each as they curtseyed to Ba'al and Daniel.

“Mavet, the sterile one; S,umul, mother of eagles; Tallay, girl of rain; Melqart, keeper of the city; Pidray, girl of light; Ishat, bitch of the gods; and Prize.”

The four women and three men settled in the row behind the consorts. All were dressed in black and adorned with rubies as the consorts were, although the costumes were more revealing and the jewels fewer.

Daniel glanced at Ba'al who was beaming proudly at his, well, harem seemed an appropriate word. “I’m curious about the titles of your, uh, concubines. Are they literal terms or just decorative references?”

“They are quite literal, Daniel.” Ba'al smiled at him, glad he was taking an interest. “Mavet, poor boy, despite his beauty and charm is indeed quite sterile. Melqart, in addition to serving Our needs is Our chief functionary to Our people in the city. Tallay… well, what can we say but - lovely when wet.”

“And ‘Bitch of the gods’, ‘Prize’?”

“Mmmm, Ishat – her name means fire, you know. She was a spy in the employ of Anubis. We bought her from Bastet who had apprehended her. Her many talents are quite… extraordinary.” Ba'al sent Ishat a rather lecherous wink. “Prize….”

Daniel followed his glance at the young man, last in both line and favour. Though very handsome, he wore only skimpy black pants. His feet were bare and a thick black cord circled his brow, keeping back the long, curly blond hair. He alone of all the concubines and consorts wore no rubies, only a gold armband bearing Ba'al’s symbol.

“Prize is a recent addition to Our household. We accepted him as a pledge of good conduct from Morrigan, to seal a business agreement between Us. When that business is concluded to Our satisfaction, he shall be given his name and earn a higher ranking within the Companions.”

Daniel flushed with outrage. “You can’t… that’s… to take a person as a hostage for a _business_ deal, to strip him of his name, his rights…. It’s barbaric and I don’t see how my people will _ever_ agree to a treaty while you treat humans like that.”

Ba'al stared back at him, surprised by Daniel’s vehemence. He scowled, then his face brightened. “But Our kind accept this type of arrangement quite freely, Daniel. These are nothing more than traditions We have followed for many thousands of years.”

Daniel felt a cold chill settle in the base of his spine. _“Our kind?”_

“Ah. We see your confusion, Daniel. All members of Our court are, of course, of Our species.”

“You’re all Goa'uld.” Numbly, Daniel looked out at them, sitting chatting to each other. “All….” _Fool. You utter idiot. The voices…. Even Helel. Never assume. How many times has Jack said, never assume._

Ba'al clapped his hands together. “Shak kree!”

As one, the eyes of every person in the room – barring Daniel – glowed a hot, bright white. Even far back in the dimness by the door, two eyes glowed – Tanit, Face of Ba'al.

“You don’t… do that thing… with your voice,” Daniel said weakly. He was torn between relief that humans were not being enslaved to serve as Ba'al’s personal companions, and the fact that for every Goa'uld in the room, there was still a human soul buried beneath their snaky presence.

“No, it is quite hard on the throat. We reserve that for yelling at Our Jaffa or posturing with other System Lords.” Ba'al was trying not to laugh at him. “Do not fear, Daniel. Your virtue is completely safe while you are a guest of my home.”

“And when I’m no longer a guest?”

“Then, you will be Our emissary, bearing Our proposal for a treaty to the Tau’ri.” Ba'al leaned close and patted his hand. “Be assured, Daniel, we have no intention of making you a host, despite your charming looks.”

“Well, that makes me feel so much better.” Sarcasm was always the quickest defence. He drew his hand away and wished the flowing frock coat provided a little more cover for his exposed chest.

Ba'al grinned wickedly, then loudly called, “Jamel akat!”

 _Bring forth the feast,_ Daniel automatically translated as a number of doors around the room opened, admitting a stream of servants bearing huge platters, steaming tureens and vast carving boards, all laden with aromatic heaps of food. The servants descended upon the guests, loading the low tables with mouth-watering varieties of soups, pulses, stews, pastries, stuffed vegetables and flatbreads.

Daniel felt his stomach rumble as the tables in front of him and Ba'al were filled with platters of savoury appetizers, all small and intricately designed. The servants withdrew and a hush descended. He looked up, surprised to see no-one eating. The Companions all sat demurely, faces trained on Ba'al, and Ba'al was staring toward the main doors, eager expectation in his eyes.

The doors swung open. Tanit emerged from the shadows, her voice ringing out and echoing off the domed ceiling.

“Bow down, all, for you now are in the presence of your goddess, the Most Gracious and Devine, Astarte.”

With a rustle of silks every member of Ba'al’s Companions leant forward, reverently pressing their faces to the cushions. Ba'al stood and after a small internal battle over showing _any_ kind of deference to a Goa'uld, politeness won out and Daniel also rose to his feet.

Astarte appeared in the open doorway, gliding gracefully, regally, past the prostrate Tanit. A large procession of people followed her, but Daniel was unable to stop himself staring at Astarte. She was draped in a diaphanous red gown that floated around her body like an amorphous mist. The bodice of her gown stretched from her right hip to left shoulder, leaving her right side bare, her breast quivering enticingly with her swaying movement. Her hair was coiled in intricate plaits piled high up on her head to spill in bouncing curls from a crown of delicate gold filigree and glittering black diamonds. Her hands were cupped together over her heart, her eyes fixed on Ba'al. As she neared, Ba'al stepped out to greet her, kissing her hands and murmuring adoring comments. He guided her to sit on the other side of Daniel, who slowly sank back down to his cushions – now sandwiched between two Goa'uld as well as being surrounded by them.

Astarte’s entourage silently settled around Ba'al’s Companions, a sea of young, very beautiful men and women dressed in the same diaphanous red as their goddess. Warily, Daniel turned to Astarte and found her already staring at him, gaze flickering over his face as if drinking in every aspect of his features.

“Is it you?” Her soft voice was barely audible.

“Beloved, this is Our guest, Daniel of the Tau’ri.” Ba'al leaned around Daniel, one hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “He visited your temple, yesterday,” he prompted.

Astarte nodded slowly, her piercing green eyes never leaving Daniel’s. She extended her cupped hands and he tentatively reached out, accepting the small object she reverently deposited in his hand.

It was a shell, a small murex shell, only five inches long. Intrigued, Daniel turned it in his fingers, then looked at Astarte. “The symbol of life after death,” he said, identifying the iconography of the shell. He covered his bemusement with a smile of thanks and she beamed with pleasure.

 

 

At a signal from Ba'al, the assembled Companions and courtiers began to eat and a burble of conversation rose up around them. Daniel settled back, toying with the shell while Ba'al plied Astarte with food. The inside of the shell bore traces of the purple pigment that had made the Phoenician empire so famous on Earth. That the Goa'uld had also adopted its symbolic representation of life after death was not surprising, given their addiction to the sarcophagus and its healing powers. Although, he reflected - as Ba'al pressed a plate of savoury morsels into his hand – there was a difference between the Goa'uld’s never-ending life – _immortality_ – and life _after_ death. He frowned, and wondered again about the human, mortal, Eshmun, revered by two immortal Goa'uld.

Music drifted over the gathering from a small group of lute and harp players Daniel spotted over against one wall. He ate, finding the food beautifully cooked and incredibly tasty. Ba'al continued to fill his plate with samples from the platters. Astarte ate sparingly, urged on by Ba'al to try this dip, taste that pastry. The Goa'uld’s affection for his goddess was undeniable, and in humans, Daniel would have found it endearing. Between two Goa'uld it was – unnerving.

Finding Astarte’s eyes on him again, he wrenched his eyes off the diamond pendant dangling from a piercing in her naked breast and decided to dig for a bit of information. “May I ask how long you have been Ba'al’s consort?”

“Eternal is our bond,” she intoned with a sudden flash of passion. “Endless is our love. We are as one from the dawn of life to the end of days.”

“Oh. Uh, that’s a long time.” He resisted the urge to ask how long her host had been trapped with her. “The men in your entourage – are they also priests?”

“Only a woman holds the power to serve as Our priestess, Daniel of the Tau’ri. The devotion of a man We will always accept when offered freely.” She looked over at the men in red. “They are without the gift of life, but We love them with all Our hearts.”

“Without the gift…? You mean they’re…?” _Eunuchs._ He stilled the automatic reaction to pull his legs up to his chest and glanced at Ba'al – unconcernedly munching on a skewer of marinated meat and fruit.

“Our loves,” Astarte ended for him. “We love all, We gift all with Our love and receive their love in return. Of course, the code of life is reserved for He who has Our heart in his hand.”

 _Code of life._ The term chilled Daniel as surely as if an Arctic blast had swept the room. _She’s a queen…_. The urge to bolt nearly overwhelmed him. He wanted to get away, _now_ , as far and as fast as he could. Astarte leaned down to the table, the drift of red gossamer clothing around her bringing such a vivid flash of Hathor’s red hair as she leant down, her lips pressing to his, her body heavy over his….

“Are you well, Daniel?” Ba'al’s deep voice rumbled in his ear, making him start and come back to the present.

“Fine. Fine. Just – fine.” And wasn’t it some cosmic irony – probably the same one that had dogged his whole life – that in Earth’s history the mythological Phoenician goddess Astarte was so closely linked with the Egyptian goddess Hathor that they both bore the same crown of horns cradling the sun? Desperate for a distraction, he turned to Ba'al. “Do you have priests too, or does the modern all-powerful god not need them these days?” He vaguely recalled a group of men chanting and surrounded in incense in the room he had first woken in.

Ba'al rolled his eyes and grimaced theatrically. “We do indeed have priests, Daniel. They convey Our wishes to Our people in matters of devotion. We do, however, find them a bit of a bore, to be honest with you. We find the endless rituals and prayers rather tedious after so many centuries. They’re not very inventive in their praises of Us, you see.” He sighed dramatically and gave his attention to the intricate desserts that had arrived at their table, borne by a team of four servants.

“Yes, it must be hard to bear,” Daniel gave up on the small talk and reached for a drink, his appetite gone.

The feast continued on, the Companions freely mixing with Astarte’s priestesses and eunuchs. When the last course had been removed from the tables more musicians joined the small ensemble and they struck up a lively harmony. More braziers were lit around the room, and in a clashing fanfare dancers raced into the chamber from several different doors. Dressed all in body-hugging black decorated with streaks of red, the dancers came together in enthusiastic, graceful movements - winding together then apart, in pairs and groups, splitting away to send their bodies soaring through the air in spectacular leaps, then caught up and flung high, landing with the ease of a bird.

The assembled Goa'uld cheered and applauded their approval as the dancers spun around them, weaving elegant patterns with their bodies, poising for long moments before throwing themselves into new and more complicated movements. It was a mixture of acrobatics and dance that Daniel found utterly compelling and a welcome diversion from the company he was in.

For nearly two hours the dance continued without pause. Daniel sat, drinking slowly but steadily from the glass in his hand, hardly seeing it being refilled by unseen servants. After quite some time, he realised with a start that the dancers were not wearing body suits as he had first thought, but their naked, lean bodies were covered only in paint. Those bodies whirled past in flashes of red on black; only intermittently did a breast or penis become visible in the uncertain, flickering light.

When it was over, he applauded loudly, distractedly wishing it could continue indefinitely. Then Astarte was on her feet, Ba'al rising to escort her out of the dining chamber. She looked down on Daniel, brushed a caressing hand under his chin, then swept out with her train of red-clad people following.

Ba'al stood over him, one hand extended to help him rise. As Daniel got his feet under him and stood, he realised he wasn’t altogether sober.

“A successful evening, do you not think so, Daniel?”

“It was very enjoyable and interesting. Please give my compliments to the chefs and the dancers. They must have worked very hard tonight.”

“Our staff are most talented and they will be pleased to hear your approval.” Ba'al steered him toward the door, the Companions smiling and nodding at them as they went.

They ambled slowly back through the now-quiet corridors of the palace, Daniel frequently removing his arm from Ba'al’s steadying grip. At the door to his suite he tried to slip in quickly but Ba'al was somehow already inside and making himself comfortable on a settee before Daniel could form a protest.

 

 

Daniel poured himself a large glass of water from a pitcher by the bed, then turned to stare at Ba'al, speculation heavy on his mind.

“You know, seeing you tonight, with all your adoring ‘Companions’ and servants and priests and whatever… I have a hard time believing you would want to give up any part of the power you have as a System Lord.”

“Why would we give up part of Our power, Daniel?” Ba'al cocked an eyebrow at him, that faint amusement back on his face.

“Well, surely a peace treaty will curtail the expansion of your empire. No new planets to conquer, pillage their resources, etcetera. Will you be content with what you have now, with seeing what other System Lords have - what the Tau’ri have – and resist the urge to just take what you want?”

Ba'al laughed and stretched his arms along the back of the seat, lounging carelessly, confident in his power and position. “Daniel, this is what attracted you to Us the first time We saw you. You played the part of servant so well, but at the same time you fought your own battle, kept up your deception when faced with the unpleasant truths that were revealed by Us, your enemy. Always, you kept your composure and thought of the grand design of the universe around you.”

Daniel sat down, well away from the Goa'uld and patiently waited. He felt in his bones – right from the start - that Ba'al’s story was at best not the whole truth, at worst a complete lie. He needed to know what was going.

“Just tell me. What’re you really planning?”

Ba'al studied him for a while, then nodded, coming to some kind of internal conclusion. He stood and paced slowly around the suite, hands clasped behind his back. “You are correct, Daniel. While Our desire for peace is most certainly Our prime aim, We did withhold one key fact from you. We do want a cessation of hostilities amongst the System Lords, of that be assured. You were at the summit, you heard the proposal from Osiris to join with Anubis and end the fighting. We do not believe that once under the control of Anubis, he will not seek total dominance over all System Lords.”

Ba'al paused and looked at Daniel, his expression earnest. “You do not know of Anubis, but take Our word that he is a formidable and unforgiving master. He will gain total dominion over all Goa'uld and then, well, Our lives will not be pleasurable under his rule. Nor will yours. He will not see the Tau’ri free and moving about the galaxy. He will have you under his control, or you – and any other Goa'uld or Jaffa that oppose him – will die. We do not wish this to happen.”

Daniel nodded; the assessment was in accordance with what the Joint Chiefs and the Tok’ra had concluded after his return from his undercover mission. “So, you don’t want peace between the Goa'uld and the Tau’ri,” he said flatly, unrealistic disappointment filling him.

“No! No, Daniel, We do want peace between Our peoples, now more than ever. But, We did fail to mention one key part of Our plan.” Ba'al resumed pacing, Daniel tracking him as he moved in and out of his vision. “We do not believe our treaty will be successful without a figurehead in supreme control of any alliance We form.”

Daniel snorted a laugh. “Why does this not surprise me? You want to be the one in charge. Of course.”

“With all modesty, Daniel, We are the most qualified for the position. We have the greatest territory, We have the best alliances with the largest number of System Lords. We feel sure that when faced with the choice of rule by Anubis and leadership from Ourselves, they will side with Us. Believe me, Daniel, the outcome will be the same as I promised from the start – peace between the System Lords and the Tau’ri. And an end to the fighting and dying.”

“So, who’s with you? You must have some idea about which System Lords will sign up on your side.”

“We have two partners confirmed in Our plan, and many others are already considering Our proposals.” Ba'al stopped right in front of Daniel, dropped to his knees and placed a hand on his knee. “We beg you to believe Us, Daniel. It has been the way of the Goa'uld for millennia to be ruled by one supreme System Lord. With Ra gone, We feel We can take up the mantle of responsibility and lead both Our peoples into a new era of prosperity.”

The sincerity seemed to bleed out of the Goa'uld and Daniel wanted to believe, but always there was a part of him that questioned. Ba'al saw his hesitance, smiled and rose to his feet.

“We will leave you to your rest and We hope Our words will reveal their truth to you.” He turned toward the door. “Tomorrow night there will be a celebration of great significance to the people of this city – the humans as well as the Goa'uld. We would desire that you attend as well, Daniel. The more you see Us living with Our people as we truly do, the more we believe you will see Us for what We truly are.”

Ba'al stopped at the door. “Sleep well. We wish your dreams to be real and illuminating.”

 

 

 


	4. Eshmun Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains non-graphic descriptions of sexual situations.

_A beautiful face, framed by curling reddish blonde hair, kind, knowing eyes stared back, humour and affection sparkling in the reflection of the mirror. She looked at him, sleeping, the pleasant buzz of lovemaking wrapping a smile on his still features. It was dark out, very early morning. She returned to the bed, eager to rediscover once again the_ ecstasy _found in his embrace. Standing over him, drinking in the smooth, brown skin, the long limbs that spoke of grace and strength, she remembered again why this species had brought so much pleasure to her kind. Her eyes flashed hotly white as she bent, anticipation curving her lips…._

Daniel came awake with a jolting gasp that had him sitting up and half off the bed before his eyes had opened. Dream and waking wove confusingly together for long moments until he could focus on the room around him, bright daylight shining in through curtains hanging still in the hot morning air. Completely thrown by the images of his dream, he looked around the room, almost convinced that Osiris would be there. He wasn’t. Daniel sucked in a deep breath and hung his head. Past history mingled with a dreadful knowledge that Sarah had to have already been carrying Osiris when he’d arrived at Doctor Jordan’s funeral: it was just a dream, fuelled by Ba'al’s banquet the previous night and all those eyes glowing in the dark.

He pushed himself off the bed and staggered into the commode to relieve himself. That time in Chicago, even though it had been months ago, had scarred him like nothing else had since the loss of Sha’re. They’d had one night, he and Sarah, sitting in her apartment talking till the wee hours about old friends, old regrets, and old hopes. He’d told her about his wife, as much as he could – that they’d met _in_ Abydos, Egypt, instead of _on_ Abydos, that they had had a year of bliss cruelly cut short by her abduction and murder. Sarah had been horrified for him, her compassion filling a hole in his heart that had only deepened with the loss of Doctor Jordan. She had taken him into her bed and for a short while he had known some peace. Then, the next morning he’d gone looking for the missing amulet….

He bathed and dressed in the silent presence of Elsh, then sat on the balcony drinking a cocktail of fruit juices and studying the activity of the palace’s inhabitants. From where he sat he could see people on other balconies, moving around the gardens below, a constant stream in and out of the main gates. How many of them were Goa'uld? He didn’t know and the uncertainty unnerved him.  Ba'al’s revealed intention to become the next overlord of the Goa'uld – supposedly with a peace treaty with Earth thrown in – didn’t fill him with confidence either. _Wonder what Teal’c would say? The Jaffa will still be in thrall to the Goa'uld and their spawn. Benevolent enslavement was still enslavement. We’ll have to make some kind of codicil in the treaty to ensure their eventual release…._

Daniel sighed heavily. He doubted very much that the authorities on Earth would hold off signing for peace just to ensure the freedom of another race. For all the moralistic ideals humans liked to spout about freedom for all, when it came to the crunch, politicians would look out for themselves first, their constituents second and conveniently forgo the rights of others if they were ‘foreign or alien’. That was assuming the peace treaty would ever come to pass. The jury was still out on that one.

A hot breeze brushed his face, laden with salt from the sea and underscored by scents of cool vegetation from inland. He stood and paced to the end of the balcony, some fifty feet in length. It wrapped around the corner of what must be his bath room, giving a spectacular view of the sea and the coastline stretching away into a heat-hazed distance. A pang of homesickness swept over him. _Wonder what the guys are doing? Still searching for me, I guess. God, I hope so._ He hated to think of the anxiety and confusion and downright inconvenience his disappearance must have caused. Every security code on the base would have been changed, even ones he didn’t need to use. Missions would be rescheduled. There was a stack of cataloguing waiting to be done from three other team’s very productive missions, conducted while SG-1 was having fun on the Nandi homeworld. All three had visited planets heavily steeped in Egyptian-based culture; SG-10 had even found a thriving peaceful population, long abandoned by the Goa'uld pretending to be Tawaret. They’d brought back an astonishing amount of gifts from the people there – statues, scrolls, jewellery and everyday items that required the talents of the SGC’s premier – and only – Egyptologist. To say nothing of translations from a dozen other sites being scouted for future missions, mission reports to follow up, and overseeing the mountain of work being done by his staff of archaeologists, paleoarchaeologists, linguists, etcetera in his department. _You’d think Ba'al would have the common curtesy to make an appointment._

In response, he heard his host calling his name from the suite. Steeling himself, Daniel turned his back on the sea and ambled inside.

“Fair morn, Daniel. We trust you slept peacefully?” Ba'al was full of bonhomie, beaming at Daniel as he made himself comfortable on a settee.

Daniel propped himself against the frame of one of the windows, crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow at Ba'al. “Morning,” he said shortly.

“We trust Our banquet gave you great enjoyment, Daniel?”

“Well, it was certainly interesting. Yes.” The aura of unreality from the opulence of the evening and the outlandish company he had found himself in still hung like a fog in his head, coupled with that dream….

Ba'al studied him with amiable calculation. “We are most fortunate to have your company at this particular time, Daniel. Our people are about to partake in the most important observance of the year. They will welcome your participation, as will We.”

“Another ceremony? Ba'al, I’m flattered, really, but can we please just get on with discussing this treaty? I have a life I’d like to get back to.” Daniel felt annoyance rising and clenched his arms a little tighter around his chest. “Surely we can contact some of your intended allies, discuss proposals for disarmament, align territorial boundaries… something? I really don’t see how sitting through another Goa'uld ceremony is going to impress upon me how much you want to be friends with us.”

“Ah, but this celebration is not held for Us, Daniel. It is Our people, Our human people who prepare even now with such anticipation for this evening, this one time in all the year where they honour one who holds great meaning for them. Would you deny them this, merely so you can be closeted with Us in negotiations that will surely bore each of us rigid by lunchtime?”

“Well, no, of course not, but I’ve been on Tsydon three days already and I’m yet to see any sign of this peace treaty you say you’ve brought me here for.”

“We beg your patience, for one more day, Daniel. Our preparations proceed on schedule and soon We will be so mired in the minute details of Our plan, you will wish to be wandering the shady lanes of Our city with no such demands upon you.” Ba'al stood and gestured toward the door. “So, come, let me show you Our private gardens. They truly are a wonder to behold.”

Daniel bit back a snippy comment and let himself be ushered out the door. His guard was there, as usual, falling into step as Ba'al led him down endless hallways and staircases. If this celebration really was a religious one, then he would allow the delay, but if Ba'al continued to stall then he was going to have to start helping himself and find a communication relay, someone he could bribe perhaps to smuggle him into a cargo ship… something to get him home again.

 

 

The gardens were as impressive as promised: enclosed by the high walls they ran the length of the palace, rising three levels in solid sandstone tiers.  A waterfall tinkled from the highest level, dropping into pools and streams that irrigated the plantings of fruit trees, flowering shrubs, herb and vegetable patches and riotous beds of flowers that had Daniel sneezing badly until the head gardener had approached with a spray of leaves from another plant and encouraged him to hold it under his nose. The sneezing thankfully abated and Ba'al left him in the gardener – Hiribi’s – care. For an hour or more Hiribi conducted him around the grounds through warm, sun-filled plots and cool, shady nooks, enthusing about each and every carefully tended plant, their medicinal, ornamental or edible qualities. Daniel’s interest was peaked, despite his impatience with Ba'al and he made note of several plants that could definitely be of interest back home.

He returned to his suite with the guard pacing silently behind him. Luncheon had been set for him on his terrace. Daniel hungrily attacked the food, the fresh air and exercise had driven away the seediness that once again lay over him in the morning. Fed and consequently sleepy, he settled in the soft cushioned lounge, instantly slipping off to sleep in the sun’s warmth.

 

 

He awoke to find Kosharta bending over him, blotting out the sun which had slid down the sky toward late afternoon.

“Adon, you must bathe and dress now.”

“Oh.” He straightened up, blinking at her. _Must have been more tired than I realised_.

“It is well you are rested, Adon. The night festival is long.”

“Really? How long is long? And why are you calling me Adon, now?”

“You keep insisting you are not a guest of our Lord, so I merely pander to your vanities and use the sobriquet that the city people are using for you. You are becoming quite a celebrity among the humans. You know how they like to gossip. Between those addle-witted priests chattering about the unfortunate circumstances of your arrival and the festival, they can talk of nothing else.”

“What exactly is this festival, Kosharta?”

She shrugged enigmatically and pulled him to his feet. “One of great meaning for all who dwell in Tsydon and revere those who are our gods. From the setting sun to its return at dawn, we have the opportunity to express that which always resides in our hearts. Our Lord will explain all to you.”

“That’ll be a first,” he muttered. He followed her inside, absently shucking clothes and stepped down into the warm, invigorating depths of the spa. The effervescent mineral waters moved gloriously over his skin - utterly decadent and bringing his senses to tingling awareness.

Eventually Kosharta returned to chivvy him out. Dry from the blowers, he padded back to his room, once again testing her patience with his nakedness. Yet another new outfit awaited him on the bed.

“This evening is very special,” she said as his eyebrows rose. “You must be dressed as befits a… _guest_ of your rank, Adon.”

For a moment Daniel considered refusing to go, but it could be an opportunity to gather intelligence. The longer he stayed in this palace, the less certain he was becoming. Nothing was as he expected it, not the Goa'uld nor the human population. He wanted, _wanted_ to believe Ba'al’s story, but every time he found some evidence that supported what the Goa'uld proposed, some other nagging doubt or conundrum would surface, planting tendrils of doubt in his mind that were taking root…. Still, petulance would gain him nothing. He slid an angry glare at Kosharta and picked up the trousers.

The fabric was gorgeous: a seductive softness somewhere between kid suede and velvet, dyed a deep midnight black. A half-smile twitched his lips as he slid them on. They felt like… well… slipping into chocolate was the immediate analogy. They clung to his body like a second skin, defining muscles and the length of his legs – and everything else, too.

Eyebrows climbing, he picked up the blousy shirt. It floated over his shoulders, settling like a butterfly’s kiss, white transparent gossamer that fell over his hips and thankfully gave some impression of modesty. A black vest, heavily embroidered with what looked to be real silver followed, clasped at the waist. Whisper fine socks and the softest boots he’d ever worn completed the outfit. Daniel slid his glasses on and faced the mirror-wall. He blinked a couple of times and let out a wheezy cough. He looked like someone out of a Disney cartoon – the x-rated version.

“Huh….”

Kosharta nodded a scowl of approval and moved behind him to flatten his hair into submission. “Good. For once, you look respectable.”

Daniel didn’t respond, caught up marvelling at how a simple set of clothes could feel so… wow. Despite the pants’ clinging nature he could barely feel them. Combined with the shirt, he felt as if he were practically naked. It was disturbing, and somewhat liberating.

Kosharta harrumphed with exasperation and steered him toward the door. They joined a throng of what he quickly realised was male-only courtiers, officials and members of the household, streaming out of every corridor in the castle to congregate and mill in the grand entrance hall. Minutes later Ba’al entered, one of Astarte’s priestesses at his heels. He smiled broadly and made a beeline for Daniel.

“Ah, the talents of Our tailors have worked their magic once again. You look quite ravishing, my dear Daniel.”

Daniel halted Ba’al with a frown. “Maybe you can tell me what’s going on now?”

“Certainly, certainly. We are so pleased you are here to share this night with Us. But, to begin, Our Lady has sent a gift for you.”

The priestess stepped forward and dropped elegantly to her knees in front of Daniel. She presented an ebony case to him. “My Goddess hopes you will honour her this night and wear her favour, Adon.”

She touched a small catch and the lid popped open, revealing an inch-wide band of platinum set with what seemed to be at least hundreds of champagne-coloured diamonds. The light from the atrium ceiling was caught by the gems’ facets and fired back in a dazzling rainbow.

“Whoa….” Entranced, he lifted it up. It weighed less than he expected and he turned it in his hands, fascinated by the exquisite craftsmanship. Small diamonds carved into bell shapes dangled freely along one edge. “It’s magnificent.”

His commonsense was screaming at him to not accept any kind of ‘gift’ from a Goa'uld, but this might just be a way of getting closer to Astarte, and perhaps securing some measure of assistance. He glanced at Ba’al and was struck by the look of concern on his face.

Daniel nodded at the priestess. “Please give my thanks to Astarte.” He paused, wondering how it was supposed to be worn.

“If Adon permits, this one will attach it for you.” She cautiously extended a hand and Daniel passed the bracelet over. Remaining on her knees, she leaned closer to him and wrapped the band around his left leg, just under the knee. She secured the clasp and settled it in place, held up by the swell of his calf muscle.

“Uh, thank you.” Daniel made to help her to her feet, but she scuttled backwards, bowing, then turned and trotted swiftly away.

“Our thanks.” Ba’al’s voice was soft with an emotion Daniel could not read. “Come – join our celebration.”

Daniel took one step forward and stopped, arrested by the clear bell-like chime that rose from the charms on the diamond band. Face heating, he glanced up at Ba’al, a sharp protest about being branded like a prize goat dying on his lips as he saw neither the expected amusement or possessiveness, rather a fleeting sadness that quickly became impatience.

“Come, Daniel.” Ba’al turned and led the way through the mighty doorway. The gathered men bunched up behind Daniel, but none would pass him. Grimacing, he followed Ba’al, trying to move gently, but managed only a hobbling limp that made the bells chime loudly. He scowled and succumbed, striding in Ba’al’s wake with the delicate chimes floating in the air around him.

Across the forecourt and out under the massive main gates, Ba'al led the way to the causeway. Down along the causeway they moved, all the men of the citadel, from cooks and valets to the soldiers of Resheph’s guard and the Companions of Ba'al’s court. Resheph herself, and indeed, every female member of the guard and the court were nowhere to be seen. Human and Goa'uld mingled freely and with single purpose, speaking with hushed but excited tones. They reached the shoreline and took the stone steps up to the battlements surrounding the barracks.

The light was fading now as the sun dove quickly below the horizon, its final red streaks scoring sea and sky alike. As the night thickened around them, torches were lit all along the battlements. The causeway and citadel were also picked out in warm flickering glows. The men spread themselves along the township side, quietly facing up into the hills where the city and temples lay concealed in night. No one spoke. All eyes gazed up at the darkened city.

Daniel stood next to Ba’al, resisting the instinct to pull away as the Goa'uld sidled closer, one arm sliding around Daniel’s back, pulling him in close.

“See there, Daniel.” Ba’al tugged him slightly to the right and pointed up at the vanished city. “The women come.”

 

 

High up, even to the height of the temples, lights began to appear, indistinct, disappearing and reappearing as if being carried along the tree-lined paths. Gradually, as they moved down the hill, more lights joined them, a snaking line bobbing and lengthening. Daniel could envisage people leaving the whitewashed homes along the road and joining the procession. He edged forward, loosening Ba’al’s grip on him. Pressed against the stonework, he found small baskets filled with flowers, ears of corn and small sheaths of ripened wheat, dotted all along the parapets.

In the eerie silence around him, distant sounds floated down from the hill – voices rising and falling, indistinct in words but joined in chorus. Slowly the lights came nearer, their number growing with every turn in the road, closer they came until the voices could be heard raised together in a sombre chant, sadness and grief evident in tone if not word. Daniel wondered if some revered person had passed away. A glance at Ba’al’s face provided no clue.

A final bend in the road and the procession emerged on the white sands of the beach, passing under the battlements. Daniel craned forward, found himself astonished at the sight of the city’s women: young, old, babe, maid and matron alike. All were bare-breasted, hair cast loose over their shoulders, long red skirts trailed bare feet. Their chants soared and filled the torch-lit night. Hands rose, imploring the stars above, fell to rake hair and breast. Grief filled the air, reaching out to envelope the silent men guarding their way.

Daniel could make out Astarte in the lead, Resheph to one side, beautiful breasts gleaming as did the sword flashing amongst her skirts. Kosharta was there too, wizened and flat-chested, eyes streaming tears. Mingling with the women and girls of the city, he recognised S,umul and Nikkal, Ba'al’s Companions, and Arsay, ‘daughter’ of Ba'al. All were weeping with genuine grief.

Six women behind Astarte bore a bier, decked in flowers and grasses in the midst of which lay a full-sized effigy of a man. As it passed beneath them, Daniel could see it was beautifully carved from a timber that glowed a gorgeous honey sheen, so lifelike in its repose, every muscle, sinew, genitals, graceful hands and slumbering face made it – him – appear real.

Flowers and wheat and corn showered down from the men around him to lay in the bier’s path. Ba’al took Daniel’s hand, pressed a posy of red flowers into his grip. Unable to let go, Ba’al guided Daniel’s hand to fling the posy out, where it fluttered down to land by the effigy’s face. Ba’al leaned close along Daniel’s back, whispering to him over the wails of grief.

“Is it not a precious sight, Daniel? Such love, such care for our long-dead Eshmun?”

Daniel nodded, the strength of the grief below him filling his own senses, mingling with the heat and scent of Ba’al’s body. He longed to push him away but, enthralled, leant further over the stonework, drinking in the scene unfolding below.

The women reached the waterline and spread out along either side of the bier. The wailing rose up louder still. Daniel winced as he watched hands slap at breasts, fingernails scoring tender flesh. The bier was raised high and borne into the water, the women’s red skirts flowing around them like spilt blood. They stopped when the water lapped their shoulders. Slowly, reverently, they lowered the bier to the water and with gentle shoves, sent it into the embrace of the receding tide. Burning torches at each end of the bier marked the passage of the Eshmun figure, slowly taken by the sea out into the unknown of the night.

An air of unreality wrapped around Daniel. The night and its ceremony seemed timeless, _he_ felt timeless, as if somehow he had journeyed thousands of years back to an Earth of the Phoenicians at the height of their empire’s power, witnessing a ritual for one of the revered rising and dying gods that had passed unchanged down the centuries to this new planet, far removed yet so unchanged from its origins.

As the inky blackness of the night time sea swallowed the bier the mood of the mourning women seemed to lift, chants dying as grief turned to sorrow, sorrow turned to fond remembrance. The women turned away from the sea and reached out to embrace their men as they flowed down the road and off the battlements to join them.

“Come, Daniel.” Ba’al’s voice was soft in his ear and tinged with sadness. “This night we celebrate the bounty of our world – Eshmun’s final gift to us.”

 

 

Ba’al’s grip on his forearm was light but firm. Daniel let himself be tugged into the stream of men moving to the steps and down off the causeway. They mingled closely with the others around them, no one shifting aside to give them right of way. Daniel watched Ba’al with interest, seeing only a tempered look of anticipation on that strong face. Ba’al threaded their path through the crowd as they met the women, the two groups coming together, the women’s cries turning now to happier tones. Calls of greeting as families and friends reunited joined laughter and snatches of song to rise up into the night air, tangling with the sweet chiming from Daniel’s diamond adornment.

The crowd flowed one way and suddenly Astarte was in front of them, her eyes wild with emotion, hair fluttering around her shoulders in a wild tangle, the skin of her arms, breast and torso gleaming in the flickering torchlight. Ba’al finally released Daniel and swept her into a heartfelt embrace, his mouth closing over hers in a deep, passionate kiss. All around them, others were hugging and kissing. Daniel moved back a step, caught a glimpse of Prize through the swirl of bodies. He stood alone, untouched, touching no one, his solitude unbreached even in this joyous confusion. Daniel grimaced in sympathy, then Resheph, caught in an enthusiastic clinch with a tall warrior wearing the uniform of the Fleet Guard, blocked his view.

Daniel turned and found Astarte staring at him, still locked in Ba’al’s kiss. She broke off, slipping from Ba’al’s arms and threw herself at Daniel. Unable to dodge her, he froze as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. For long, awful moments that dragged into minutes, all he could feel was her warm hips against his, her tongue stroking his mouth, her naked breasts pressed against his chest, hard nipples like focal points through the whisper thin shirt he wore. And all he could think of was the parasite curled within the woman – no more than a few inches from his unprotected mouth.

Eventually she withdrew, peppering his face with intimate nuzzles, her hands feathering possessive touches over his chest. “Come, my Adon. This night we feast our bodies and souls with the bounty of our dearest Eshmun.” She gazed into his eyes, seeming to lose herself, then Ba’al was there, catching her up in one arm, grabbing Daniel’s hand and pulling them both into the crowd.

The throng flowed past the garrison and into the town, the women’s sorrow dissipating completely as music and song swept out of the houses, windows and doors thrown wide, cheery warm light spilling into the streets illuminating the tables set before each that groaned under mounds of food. Devine aromas wrapped around Daniel. His stomach growled hollowly, reminding him of how little he had really eaten since his arrival on this planet.

Astarte let out a girlish squeal and fluttered to one of the tables. She tore off a chunk of warm bread, dipped it in an earthen pot of thick stew and, dividing it in half, popped one piece into Ba’al’s mouth and pressed the other against Daniel’s lips. Not feeling churlish enough to refuse, he opened his mouth and accepted the food. It tasted wonderful and he swallowed hungrily. Astarte smiled tenderly at him and darted off to gather more delights. Ba’al nodded at him in gratitude and slid his arm around Daniel’s shoulders.

“Eshmun Night is most special to Astarte. We are pleased you accept her gifts, Daniel.” He drew Daniel close and guided them through the crowd.

“Is this a regular celebration?” Daniel asked. Despite his situation, he couldn’t suppress the curiosity and desire for knowledge of a culture that was proving to be completely unlike his expectations. This was not a society ground down under an oppressive military reign. The people were thriving, celebrating their culture and beliefs and accepting their Goa'uld rulers in their midst as if they were the next-door neighbours.

“Once each year, on the rise of the first summer full moon, the death of Eshmun is mourned and the gift of the bounty his passing blessed us with is indulged most joyously.” Over the rising volume of music and singing Ba’al leaned in to speak in Daniel’s ear, his hand snug around his hip. “Eshmun’s final death, many centuries ago, saw this land permanently blessed with full crops, plentiful rains and a generous sun for Our people to thrive under. We are most blessed.”

Daniel quirked a sceptical eye at him and subtly, unsuccessfully, tried to pull away. Before he could retort, Astarte bounded up and insisted on hand feeding them both. Daniel ate and drank, following Astarte’s wandering path from household to household: pies, buns, meat stews, piles of vegetables, pots of spicy legumes – cups of cider, beer, spiced wine, chilled water and sweet honey mead washed it down. All around them the townspeople ate, sang, danced. Torches and bonfires were dotted along the winding pathways and the whole crowd slowly meandered through the town and up toward the temple pathways. Other scents floated upon the air, underlying food and wine were mingled threads of perfume, body scents, sweat and sex. Over it all a heady incense gradually soaked into the pores, making Daniel’s breath tight, his senses hyper-aware.

Ba’al’s hand on his hip was a focus he couldn’t shake his mind from, the heat from the Goa'uld’s body along his right side an incongruent, needy irritant. He wanted to push him away, yet he stayed, tucked into Ba’al’s embrace as if needing the protection. All around, people were pairing up, threesomes and more even. As the progressive party moved higher up the cliff path, more bare flesh was revealed. Skirts drifted to the ground, men discarded shoes, shirts, pants. Naked bodies, partners of all and any age, entwined in the alcoves, on the benches, and in the grass.

Daniel found himself staring at Helel, Anath, Arsay and another woman, twining rapturously on the grass. Discomfited, he turned his head and found Astarte plundering Ba’al’s mouth. Barely stopping for breath, she broke off, leant over and kissed Daniel hard. Ba’al moved his hand on Daniel’s hip, a covetous, caressing gesture and brought the three of them into an embrace. Astarte was all but naked now, clad only in a few wispy scarves.

Daniel didn’t know where to put his hands. Bare flesh pressed at him from both sides and he realised muzzily that Ba’al had discarded his shirt somewhere. Dimly trying to raise a protest, he felt Astarte’s hands loosen his vest, release the ties on his shirt, then they were questing over his chest, rubbing his already hard nipples and sending shocks of arousal through him.

 

 

“No.”

It was a barely heard whisper. He took a deep breath, but it was filled with something that made the blood roar in his temples. His mouth opened again… and was covered by another, different from the first, power tempered by gentleness but all encompassing and undeniable. Other lips sucked and nibbled at his neck, trailing lower to tease his pulse, collarbone and down to latch onto his left nipple. Blood surged in his veins and he felt himself rise, aroused and desperately needy. Yet, at the same time he wanted to deny this, to get away from here and recover what dignity he could.

“N… please,” he gasped into that strong mouth.

In response, elegant, powerful hands closed over his buttocks, pulling his groin against another, equally aroused and demanding. Astarte’s small hands moved lower, teasing until Daniel felt he would explode.

 _“No.”_

He slithered out of their grip and the first breath of cool air in what seemed an eternity brought some desperately needed clarity. “No.”

They merely looked at him, these most power of Goa'uld, neither angry nor displeased. Ba’al took Astarte’s hand and led her off up the grassy path.

Daniel staggered and fetched up against a colonnade, watching them disappear into the lust-filled night.

Something brushed his foot and he looked down. Two men, fully nude, were vigorously making love in the grass. Daniel blinked and backed away. Swept up by the press of people moving along the path, he kept his head down and tried to fight the arousal in his body. Time and again, someone would drift near and with a caress, a word or a direct grope, offer themselves to him: men, women, old, young, Goa'uld or human, any age or combination. He kept shaking them off and they would accept the refusal with an amicable nod or murmured ‘Adon’.

The night seemed to stretch on forever. Daniel found some respite in a shadowy corner, but was eventually driven out by a group of eight or more, cavorting enthusiastically together. Each time he attempted to go back down the path he ran into the amorous arms of another group. He found anonymity in going with the flow, lurking on the side of the path or under trees until driven on and ever upward. All around, the incense drifted, making it impossible to clear his head and fight off the undiminished arousal.

Daniel rounded a bend in the path and fell straight into a writhing clutch of five people, actively having sex as they stood under a bower of jasmine. Delighted to find another partner they gathered him up, hands everywhere as they relieved him of his vest and shirt.

“No, thanks, but I don’t…”

A mouth pressed over his, cutting off air and protest. He tried to push them off but his coordination was shot, jumbled as his thoughts. He tripped and fell back, bringing the lot down with him. Hands yanked at his pants, edging them past his hips.

“Leave me be!” His cry was plaintive as he tried to twist out from under them. So far gone in their own lust, none of the group stopped.

“Adon!”

Daniel looked up, saw a familiar blurry outline of someone standing over him. “Help….”

“The Adon wishes another partner,” Prize said loudly. He bent and pulled at one naked body, then another. He grabbed Daniel’s arms and hauled him upright. Snatching up Daniel’s clothes he led him away. The group barely paused before they continued on.

“They mean no harm, Adon.”

“Thank you. I… thanks.” Daniel grimaced and fumbled his arms into the shirt. “Is this ever going to end?” he blurted.

“With the dawn, Adon. The rising sun will bring the renewal of Eshmun’s blessing and then we may return home.” Prize was rather dishabilled himself. “I will stay with you, dissuade any suitors you do not want, Adon.”

“I don’t want any of them,” he said sharply. He sighed. “Thank you, I appreciate your help.”

 

 

Daniel followed Prize, skirting coupling revellers as they followed the winding cliff path that led up to the temples. Time stood still, the night poised forever at the moment of deepest darkness, never to tip over into day. As Prize fended off amorous advances, Daniel found his thoughts tangling images of Sarah, that night spent with her in Chicago mixing with older memories of their time as a couple, and those overlain with flashes of his dearest Sha’re, her beautiful, enthusiastic loving which he so desperately, painfully longed for. As everyone around him shared their bodies and their love, he felt as lonely and adrift as the effigy on its voyage. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in a nameless, blameless rut.

Finally, they crested a rise and found themselves staring out at the sea, a faint lightening of the sky now outlining the horizon.

“Eshmun-morn comes, Daniel.” Prize slipped his hand into Daniel’s and led him out onto the open meadow in front of Eshmun’s tomb. The altar in front of Eshmun’s statue was wreathed in clouds of burning incense. People were spreading out all over the grass, standing, sitting, talking or making love once again. Numb, Daniel followed Prize to a slightly secluded clump of shrubs, near the gleaming altar. They sank to their knees and he sighed, grateful for the respite. Prize brushed his hand along his shoulder and Daniel bent his neck under the welcome touch, much of the past hours’ tension bleeding away and leaving him drifting and unfocused.

A sudden hush brought his head up. People were turning and he followed their gaze to see Astarte and Ba’al walk to the altar. Both were nude, the moonlight giving them an unearthly aura. Ba’al scooped Astarte up and tenderly laid her on the altar. He climbed up and knelt over her, body hard and magnificent to behold. With the first rays of dawn light spreading across their bodies, he lowered himself and in one powerful thrust, entered her.

Astarte’s gleeful moan seemed to herald the resumption of congress for the onlookers. All around them, bodies began to thrust and shudder. A heady scent of sex underlined by the damnable incense swept over Daniel and he groaned out loud as his arousal returned. Unable to tear his eyes from Ba’al’s pounding body, he gasped as both Astarte and Ba’al met his gaze.

 

 

Dawn broke. Daniel tore his eyes from the living and stared, desperately, fervently, at the frozen image of a dead human, made a god by pretenders to that same title.

Eshmun stared out over the writhing sea of human bodies, sightless eyes encompassing far horizons and truths, buried in the passage of time. For a moment, Daniel felt the statue’s eyes upon him and the paths of two lost travellers inextricably merged into one.

 

 


	5. Picking Up The Pieces

Eleven days earlier

 

His footsteps rapped sharply on the hard floor, echoing loudly in the quiet hallway. He strode quickly, anger speeding him, his mind clear and focused over the turmoil clenching his heart. Four armed MPs stood guard outside the entrance to the cubicle. They snapped to attention and he pushed through the swinging door without pause.

“O’Neill.” Teal'c rose smoothly from the chair by Carter’s bedside without relinquishing his grip on her hand.

“How is she?” Jack bit the words out as he took in the banks of beeping monitors, the hovering nurses and the major’s still, pale face.

“There has been no improvement in Major Carter’s condition. She remains unconscious and unresponsive. What of Daniel Jackson?”

“Nothing. We’ve got MPs, police, even FBI crawling all over the park, but no sign of Daniel. I left Major Davis in charge. Damn.” Jack grimaced with frustration. Three hours had passed since he’d rung Daniel’s phone and got a New York City policeman delivering the chilling news that Carter was unconscious and Daniel missing. He jerked his head toward a corner of the cubicle, out of the nurses’ hearing.

Teal'c gently placed Carter’s hand on the starched sheet and followed him. “Have there been any other incidents involving SGC personnel?”

Jack shook his head. “No. Hammond’s been in contact with everyone on level one and two security. Everyone is accounted for. The teams on leave are heading back to Base. Griff and Sanchez were on Chincoteague Island of all places. They’re diverting here to help out. Hammond’s changed all the Base’s codes, alerted the teams in-country, done everything short of locking down the whole Base.”

“It would appear then that this attack was directed primarily at Daniel Jackson.” Teal'c frowned and looked like he wanted to hit someone.

Jack shared the sentiment. The machinery of the Air Force had swung into action with crisp efficiency. Major Davis had been pulled out of the Pentagon and choppered into Central Park like he was visiting royalty. He had immediately taken command of the MPs, liaised with the Captain of the Central Park Precinct police, and called in the FBI, all within minutes of landing. There were teams scouring the Park and surrounding streets for signs of Daniel, but Jack knew with cold certainty that he was long gone now.

On top of the outrage Jack felt, he _knew_ \- deep down - that Daniel needed him, desperately needed his help, and he was powerless to stop whatever was happening to his best friend. Well, not for much longer.

A choking gasp of air from the bed behind them had he and Teal'c whipping around. Carter lurched up, suddenly awake, eyes wild and darting from side to side as she nearly slid out of the bed.

 _“Daniel!”_

The nurses leapt to her but Teal'c and Jack got there first. “Carter?”

Teal'c grabbed and plonked her back on the bed, steadying her swaying body as the medical staff closed in.

“They took him! Daniel! Oh, god, I couldn’t move, do anything…. They just took him….” She shook her head violently and focused for the first time on her teammates. “Sir, Teal'c, is he…?”

“Daniel Jackson has been abducted, Major Carter. Even now, the authorities search the entire country for him. You must give consideration to your own health for the moment.” Teal'c’s gentle rumble focused her, allowing the doctors to get some of their observations started.

Carter frowned, then her face lightened with surprise. “Actually, I feel fine. No, really….” She unsuccessfully tried to pull her arm out of a BP cuff.

Jack stepped around the clutch of nurses and caught her attention. “Major, report!”

“Sir, we were walking through the Park.  We were going to get a cab and meet you at the restaurant. There was a girl, homeless, sitting under a tree. She was crying. Daniel went to talk to her. He gave her some money…. She was so grateful she grabbed his hand. We started walking again, then he noticed she’d scratched his hand.” Carter was sitting straighter as she spoke, her colour and faculties returning swiftly.

“It happened so quickly. He got dizzy, stumbled, dropped the bag with the shawl he’d bought for Catherine. Then he just fell to his knees. I called out for help but it was a secluded part of the walking path. No one was near. And the girl had vanished.” Her pale cheeks began to flush with anger. “I had my phone out, but something hit me in the neck. It must have been a dart. I was paralysed. Useless. Then four men came. I thought they were going to help, but they dragged me into the shrubbery. I had to lay there and watch Daniel be picked up and carried off. I couldn’t yell out. Nobody came. I must have passed out eventually…. Sir, how long has it been?”

“Three hours, thirty-seven minutes, Carter. Did you get a look at their faces? Anything to help ID them?”

“No, sir. I couldn’t move my head. All I saw were feet – black shoes, black pants. And Daniel. He was still awake when they picked him up. God….” She shuddered.

Jack pinned the doctor with a searching stare. “How is she?”

“Vital signs are all strong. I’m impressed with the speed of her recovery, however we’ll be keeping her for twenty-four hours observation. Just in case.” The doctor was middle-aged, capable and unflappable.

Jack opened his mouth to tell Carter to rest up, but she flung off the sheets and pulled away from the leads attached to her chest and finger. “Not likely!” She was out of bed and searching for her clothes before the nurses could hold her down.

“Carter, you should really take it easy for a while.”

“Sir, I feel fine. Honestly – no headache, no dizziness. Whatever they used, it’s worn off. I’m not sitting on my ass while Daniel needs our help.” She yanked on her jeans, discarded the bra and t-shirt that had been cut off by the emergency staff and pulled on her shirt and jacket.

“I cannot condone this-,” the doctor began.

“I’ll discharge myself. Thank you for your help, but I’m okay now, really.” She gave him a winning smile and sat to pull on her boots.

Jack shared a wry smile with Teal'c and they followed Carter out the door, the doctor’s protests failing to slow her at all. Signing the paperwork to absolve anyone and everyone from any responsibility for her care took way longer. Finally though, they were out of the emergency room, the four MPs shadowing them and they headed into the warm night where two MP jeeps were parked amid ambulances and police cars. They bundled into the first jeep, allowing one of the MPs to drive while they brought Carter up to speed with the situation.

Jack twisted in his seat. “So, any ideas on who’s behind this?”

Carter grimaced. “NID would be my first bet. They’d have the resources to pull off something like this.”

“Hammond’s working on his contacts. We can’t rule out “other” interests, though.” Jack privately doubted the NID were behind the abduction. If they wanted Daniel for whatever purpose, they were more likely to just waltz into the SGC with orders signed by the president for Hammond to hand Daniel over. No, this was too well-planned.

“The perpetrators were aware of our movements,” Teal'c said thoughtfully. “They knew we would be here in this city, far enough in advance to allow them to plan their attack.”

“They must have been plotting this for some time, just waiting to move when Daniel was away from the safety of the base,” Carter agreed. “Do you think they would have tried it in Colorado Springs, or was he deliberately lured here to New York?”

Jack pursed his lips. “Attacking someone in broad daylight, even in their own home, is going to be noticed a lot quicker in a small city like the Springs than here in New York. It’s way easier to hide in a crowd. You think they engineered the invite from Catherine and Ernest?”

Carter blanched. “God, I hope not. Maybe they were ready to move at a moment’s notice, took advantage of us being here and attacked.”

 

The long ride from St Luke’s-Roosevelt Hospital Center ended at FBI headquarters on Federal Plaza, where the investigation was being conducted. They were met in the lobby by Davis who greeted Carter with relief.

“Sam! I’m glad to see you up and about. You’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Paul. Thanks. Any word on Daniel yet?”

“We’ve got a few leads, yes. If you’ll come this way, sir,” he said to Jack, leading the way across a marbled entry to a bank of elevators. The doors closed, sealing the four in privacy. “I just talked to General Hammond. He’s confirmed that no other attempts have been made on SGC personnel. All off-world teams have reported in, everyone is safe.”

Jack nodded curtly. “Good. One less thing to worry about. So, this is all about Daniel, isn’t it?”

“Seems so, sir. The general is going over everything that Doctor Jackson was currently working on, to see if he can find anything that someone might have wanted him for. He’s also heard back from his contacts – they deny the NID has any involvement in the abduction.”

Jack raised his eyebrows but further speculation was cut off when the elevator doors opened onto a corridor of gleaming metal and marble. Low lighting and muted voices gave the place the appearance of efficiency and urgency. Davis led the way past glass-walled offices into a large conference room. Already seated at the long oval table were several men and women, and two dearly familiar faces.

“Catherine, Ernest!” Jack held out his hand, shaking Ernest’s even as he leant and kissed Catherine’s cheek. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jack. We offered to help the moment the police contacted us. Daniel is like our son, we can’t believe someone would want to harm him… here.” Catherine was obviously of the same opinion that Daniel should have been safe on _this_ planet. “Sam, are you alright, dear?”

Carter kissed them both then settled in a chair next to Catherine. “I’m okay. You didn’t hear from Daniel at all, I guess?”

“No. We were at the hotel, just about to leave for the restaurant when the police rang. I can’t believe this has happened.” Catherine looked equally angry and upset.

The door opened again, admitting two men. Introductions were brief. “Jack Malone, Assistant Director of Missing Persons. Special Agent Martin Fitzgerald.” The dark-haired man indicated the younger man at his side. Moving to a large LCD screen on one wall, he brought up a display of the city’s streets. “Colonel O'Neill, we’ve had some good news. Several witnesses in the area of the abduction reported a white van leaving the scene. We’ve pulled some clear photos from the traffic control system, and we’ve got a licence plate.”

The display showed a series of photos of a van pulling away on to West 58th Street, leaving the Park behind and heading into the crowded streets. One shot was a highly enhanced number plate on the rear of the van.

“Though no-one actually saw Doctor Jackson being put in the van, we have every reason to believe it was used in his abduction. It was the only vehicle parked in the area at the time he and Major Carter were attacked that could have concealed an unwilling occupant. It moved away, crosstown. We’ve tracked it through the NYC traffic control system. It went directly to Pier 98 at the end of West 58th, here,” Malone paused as the display changed again, focusing down from a satellite picture of the Hudson River and the warehouses fronting it, to a group of abandoned buildings. “The police aviation unit and Major Davis’ helicopter both did a flyover and we got this from them.”

The screen changed to an aerial photograph of the water by the wharves, murky and dark, but Jack could make out the pale oblong under the surface: the roof of a white van. His heart seized for a horrible moment. Surely they wouldn’t have taken Daniel just to kill him?

Malone caught his glance, his features grim, obviously thinking the same. Fitzgerald stepped forward. “We have a team preparing to go in now. Local police have sealed the area,” he said quietly.

“We’re going too.” It wasn’t a request and Malone accepted that with a curt nod. As Carter and Teal'c headed for the door, Jack moved to Catherine’s side, realising finally that he still held the parcel containing his absurd gift for Daniel. “We’ll find him. I promise. Would you hold this for me, till we do?” He placed the parcel in her hands, almost reverently, a physical symbol of the promise made.

Catherine caught his hand and squeezed it hard. “Bring him back, Jack.”

Jack nodded and strode away after his teammates. _How_ far he had to go before he filled that promise, he had no idea. But fill it he would, or die in the attempt.

 

 

Jack and his team held their positions behind the ranks of FBI agents and uniformed police. Armed with pistols loaned from the police, they along with Griff and Sanchez – swept up as they left the FBI building – and the two teams of MPs, were in place around the empty warehouses perched on top of Pier 98. The advance unit signalled the all-clear and Malone’s voice rang out over their earpieces, “All teams, go, go, go!”

He moved, swiftly and quietly along the deserted pier, heading for the rusted door some hundred feet away. The cool, familiar focus of the mind that always came with a mission swept over Jack and the urgent need to find his friend, make sure Daniel was safe, uninjured, _alive_ , urged him on past the uniforms and suited agents. He was third through the sprung door, leaping into the dimness beyond with the echoing shouts of “FBI, don’t move!” filling the enormous space of the warehouse.

Flashlight beams lanced through the dust motes drifting in the warm air. Desperately, Jack searched, left, right, into every bare corner as he jogged the length of the concrete floor. Nothing. Not even the requisite stack of empty boxes or crates for a felon to hide behind. The only thing in the vast room was a small bundle of cloth, piled in the centre of the floor. Drawn to it like a marionette on a string, he stepped around the agents absurdly pointing their rifles at it.

“No….” Fury clenched his stomach. It was just a pile of clothes. Blue jeans, black leather jacket, red shirt, black boots. Ordinary clothes. Except, they were Daniel’s clothes - with Daniel’s gold watch, Jack’s own birthday present three years ago, glinting up from the top of the pile. Disregarding the agent’s admonishment not to touch anything, he dropped to one knee and lifted a corner of the red shirt. Black underwear lay neatly folded beneath the shirt. Daniel’s wallet slid out of a jacket pocket and was picked up by a gloved FBI hand before Jack’s fingers could smear any possible prints.

“Colonel?” Malone leaned over his shoulder, inspecting the clothes. “You recognise these?”

“They’re Daniel’s,” Jack managed over the tight lump in his throat. Wherever Daniel had been taken, he’d gone there without even the comfort of his own – if any – clothes.

“Over here!” The younger agent, Fitzgerald, called from across the warehouse, closer to an open freight door overlooking the sea. Teal'c stood grimly by his side.

Jack strode over to them, Carter and Malone on his heels. Four ringbolts set into the concrete floor gleamed in the twilight coming through the open door. He stared at the lumps of metal, their purpose becoming all too clear. Set in an oblong shape, they were wide enough apart to accommodate a man’s body, spread-eagled and tied securely to the floor. Carter circled the spot slowly, then caught his eye, coming to the same conclusion – Daniel had been stripped naked and tied down to the floor.

 _What the hell did they do to him?_

Malone cleared his throat and ushered them away towards the dock. “We’ll get forensics in here. They may turn up something. And we’ve got a dive team on their way to check that van. My guess is they’ve dumped it and left in another vehicle. We’ve got our people pulling in satellite photos of the area, they’ll pick up any vehicles in the vicinity over the last few hours.”

“Military surveillance?” Carter asked.

“No, actually it’s Google,” Fitzgerald answered with a wry grin. “You’d be surprised what they come up with these days, and it’s way easier than trying to get anything out of the CIA or NSA.”

They walked past the pile of Daniel’s clothes, skirting around the agents and police now swarming over the building. Their own MPs held the doors, looking disappointed there was no-one to shoot. Teal'c paused, then called out, “O'Neill.”

Jack was back by his side in a flash. “What?”

“Daniel Jackson’s glasses are not with the rest of his personal effects.”

Jack squatted down and rifled through the clothes. The pockets of the leather jacket held only tissues and admittance stubs for the museum. Daniel’s wallet still held a good amount of cash, his credit cards, driver’s licence and Air Force consultant’s ID.

He looked up at his teammates. “So, whoever they are, they need him to be able to read.” Which meant they needed Daniel alive and in a reasonable condition. A small comfort. It didn’t help narrow down the list of suspects, though.

“Colonel, I think we need to be briefed on exactly what it is that Doctor Jackson does for the Air Force, and who might possibly have need of his skills.” Malone frowned down at him. “This doesn’t look like your standard kidnapping to me.”

“No, no it’s not.” Jack stood up, assessing the man and his obvious experience. “I need to make some calls first. Hope you’ve got good coffee, Malone. It’s going to be a long night.”

 

 

Oh-Five-Three-Hundred hours. The still-dark streets of New York, some twenty floors below the balcony where Jack stood, were already humming with people. Like the city, the FBI offices had never quieted during the night. Malone and his team had worked through, gathering data from all corners of the city, despatching agents to question witnesses, sifting, sorting, collating. Jack’s very bones ached with impatience. He wanted to be out there – somewhere – anywhere – searching for his friend. And preferably, beating the crap out of whoever had taken him.  _Dammit._ Visions kept forming in his mind, of Daniel in the hands of people who would take him, strip him, perform any number of indignities upon him in order to achieve their goals. Daniel was brave, fearless in the face of armed enemies, but like this? Alone, reduced to a man’s most vulnerable state, he had to be scared. And giving them lip. Jack smiled, a brief flash of humour that gave him a welcome spark of energy. He’d bet anything the kidnappers hadn’t bargained on getting an earful of Doctor Jackson’s special brand of invective.

 

At 0600 Jack made a third call to Hammond. Even though it was 0300 in Colorado Springs, Hammond answered on the first ring. “What’s the news, Colonel?”

“The FBI divers have gone through the van and the water around it – there’s no sign….”

Hammond’s gusty sigh of relief blew through the receiver. “Thank the lord. Any further progress?”

“They’ve traced the van, it was a hire. They’re bringing in the clerk who rented it, should be here soon.” As Jack spoke, the elevator doors opened, disgorging Fitzgerald and another FBI agent, Shovel, Spade, something like that. Between them they escorted a sleepy-looking young man into an interview room. He caught Carter’s eye across the open room and with a tilt of his head sent her after them. “Anything new on your end, sir?”

“Nothing, son. All SGC personnel are accounted for, both here and elsewhere. We’ve not received any demands regarding Doctor Jackson’s return. I’ve contacted a lot of people, Jack. Nobody knows anything and I’m inclined to believe them. There isn’t even the faintest whisper of suspicion floating around the usual suspects.  In fact, they’re as surprised and concerned as we are. They don’t want to lose Doctor Jackson any more than we do. Whoever is behind this, they seem to be a new player on the field.”

“Damn.” Jack had been hoping Hammond’s contacts throughout the Force and elsewhere would be able to shake some tongues loose.

“Don’t worry too much, Jack. They won’t get far. We’ve got a lot of help on this one. The president has ordered all agencies to give us full co-operation. He appreciates Daniel’s value as much as we do. We’ll get our boy back.” The confidence in Hammond’s voice failed to boost Jack’s own spirits.

“Yes, sir,” he managed. “I’ll check in again as soon as anything breaks.”

“Major Davis can keep me posted. Get some rest, Jack.”

“Yes, sir. Goodnight.”

Jack replaced the receiver and wandered over to where Teal'c stood, hands clasped behind his back, spine stiff, attention riveted to the video surveillance footage that two agents were scrutinizing. “Anything?”

“There has been no progress in discovering the whereabouts of Daniel Jackson, O'Neill.” Teal'c’s blunt declaration had the agents glancing up defensively. “This method of investigation appears ineffective.” He scowled dismissively and turned away.

Davis walked up to them, balancing a tray loaded with coffee and wrapped parcels. He deposited it on a table and looked enquiringly at them. “Colonel, Teal'c? There’s piping hot coffee and egg and bacon sandwiches from the deli in the lobby.”

Jack’s stomach rumbled in time with Teal'c’s appreciative growl, both reminded that they’d missed dinner last night. They settled around the table while Davis, who still looked crisp and starched despite also pulling an all-nighter, went through the latest round of negative reports. None of the official bureaus keeping an eye out for Daniel had reported even the remotest hint of a sighting. The ports, airports, terminals, even the New York taxi companies – no-one had spotted him or seen a suspicious vehicle that might have contained a restrained captive.

“I believe we should return to the warehouse, O'Neill, and take up the trail ourselves.” Teal’c demolished his second sandwich and unwrapped a third. “Remaining here will not help us find Daniel Jackson before he is further harmed.”

“We don’t know he’s been harmed in the first place, Teal'c,” Jack said, trying to be optimistic.

Teal'c flashed him a look that ate right through his artifice. The mere act of taking Daniel against his will had harmed him, and them.

“Sir!” Carter came out of the interview room and strode toward them, her face a mixed expression of worry and renewed purpose. “The rental clerk is nearly a hundred percent certain that the man he hired the van to spoke with a Russian accent.”

 _“Russian?”_ Jack nearly choked on his last bite of food. A familiar, long-held anger churned up in his gut. If a Russian were involved in _this…._

“Well, it’s only a theory at the moment, Colonel.” Agent Shovel came up behind Carter. “The witness said the man had a clear American accent, but they got into a discussion about food while he was waiting for the van to arrive, and he mentioned liking shchi soup which our witness says is a dish peculiar to Russia – where his grandmother hails from.”

“Did you get an ID for this guy?”

“Name on the drivers licence was Roger Thornhill.” At Jack’s blank look, Shovel elaborated, “Roger Thornhill is a well-known alias. It comes from _North By North-West_. The Alfred Hitchcock film?”

Jack was still in the dark but Teal'c spoke up. “Roger Thornhill was the spy who did not exist, O'Neill. A person in name only, used to divert wrong doers from the real agent. It would appear our foe is also an aficionado of classic movies.”

Malone joined the group, pinning Jack with his calculating gaze. “Has Doctor Jackson had any dealings with Russians, Colonel? Anyone in his past or recent history that might have a grudge against him?”

Jack stared at Carter and Teal'c, then shifted his stare to Davis. “Yeah. Daniel was in Moscow last year with Davis on some high-level negotiations. From all accounts there were no problems. Well, apart from the usual unwillingness to co-operate on the Russians’ side. Davis?”

“Sir, I can’t think of anyone we met while we were there that would have formed a dislike of Doctor Jackson,” Davis replied. “I was with him the whole time, which apart from plane travel was only sixteen hours. In fact, by the time we left I had the opinion that everyone we’d dealt with had a pretty favourable impression of Daniel. He speaks fluent Russian and had them all eating out of his hand.” 

Nodding, Jack looked back at Malone. “We do have another contact in Russia, somewhat connected with our program. I’ll see if we can get something out of her.” Deep down, Jack had a feeling that if the kidnappers were Russian based they wouldn’t be in the visible chain of command. It was possible that they had discovered Daniel by a familiarity with the Russian Stargate program - which was now on ice due to the fact that their DHD was a charred wreck languishing in the basement of the SGC – and it could be someone blamed that on Daniel.

“Alright,” Malone said. “We’ve got a lot more avenues of enquiry to cover. Let’s get started on those. Colonel, I suggest you and your team take the moment for some rest. We’ll have an update briefing at one pm.”

“Sure,” Jack replied absently. “Carter? See if you can get in contact with Svetlana, will you?”

Carter’s eyebrows rose. “Doctor Markova? Uh, yes, sir.” She looked at Davis who beckoned her over to the desk he had set up with secured communications linked directly to the SGC. Jack drifted over to the couches where Griff and Sanchez had planted themselves and were busily attacking their own breakfast.

“Any news, colonel?” Griff drained his coffee cup and added it to the pile of wrappings on their table.

“Could be there’s a Russian connection behind the abduction,” Jack said.

“Son of a…. Doctor Jackson turned himself inside out to make them welcome on base and this is what they do in return?” Sanchez snarled. He looked up at Jack. “Say the word, sir, we’ll shake it out of them.”

Jack flickered a brief grin. “I’ll keep that in mind, captain.” He sank down onto the couch, his head falling back onto the padding, his eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling. “I don’t think there’s much else you two can do here, now. Why don’t you go back to your vacation? We’ll keep you updated with any developments.” Even as he said the words he had a sinking feeling that developments would be coming few and far between.

Griff leaned around Sanchez to stare at Jack. “’Preciate the thought, Colonel, but we’re not budging till we find Daniel. He’s a good man, one of our own, and we don’t let some bastard just waltz in and take him without a fight.”

Jack rolled his head on the couch back and looked at the two captains. He felt a surge of pride, not just for two career military men with such unshakeable loyalty, but also for Daniel’s ability to make men like these care about his welfare. “Thanks, Bob, Miguel. We value that.”

He settled back, eyes drifting half-shut as the busy hum of the offices swept over him. Teal'c was hovering over the agents once again, silently demanding instant results from their enquiries. Carter and Davis were both on phones and computers, looking up their woman in Moscow who hopefully could give them some new leads. Jack let his eyes close and fell into a ten-minute power nap.

 

 

Ten minutes, fifty seconds later his eyes popped open again. Teal'c was still hovering, Griff and Sanchez talking quietly, Davis was on the computers, and Carter was looking directly at him. He was up and by her side in quick, long strides.

“Sir, I got through to Svetlana. She was understandably upset to hear the news about Daniel. As you know, most of the people directly involved with the Russian… project perished in the Siberian base. She’s retrieving the files on those who are still alive, but she did say that one name promptly came to mind.”

“Who?”

“Colonel Arseniy Chahine. He was on leave when the incident happened and when the authorities were trying to account for everyone, he was nowhere to be found. They didn’t have his body in the facility, he didn’t return from leave and when they went to his home it turned out to be a vacant plot of land.”

“What? Surely even the Russians can do a proper security check on personnel working on their top secret projects.”

“Exactly my thought, and Svetlana confirmed that they’ve since done a thorough investigation into Colonel Chahine’s background. Everything they thought they knew about him is fake – his military history, medals, commendations, references, the lot. She’s going to forward what they have through the SGC.”

“Great. That’ll be about a year too late.” Jack shook his head and tried to damp down the churning in his gut. “They have a _major_ breach of security in their program and they don’t once pass it on to us. Did this colonel go ‘in country’ at all?”

Carter’s grim nod confirmed his suspicions. “Oh, yeah. He was leader of one of their teams. He went on at least eight missions. Svetlana said there were also some inconsistencies between the mission reports and the you-know-what activations. There might have been some missions that weren’t officially logged.”

Jack felt his face stretch in a grimace. “This day just gets better and better.”

 

The morning passed in a blur of activity that didn’t actually produce anything. By midday it was becoming clear that finding Daniel and his kidnappers was going to be a lengthy process. By late afternoon it was also clear that their presence was no longer needed in the FBI offices. Everything was being done, efficiently and professionally – just not productively. Witnesses were questioned by the dozen but still they were no closer. Hammond contacted Davis at 1800 and gently requested Jack and his teammates head back to Colorado Springs. With Davis promising to remain in the FBI’s faces until they turned something up, Jack, Sam, Teal'c, Griff and Sanchez took their leave.

They stopped off at their hotel, packed their bags, packed Daniel’s too, placed one more call to Catherine and Ernest, uselessly entreating them not to worry, and headed for an Air Force transport that had been diverted to JFK.

 

 

The hall was quiet. Only the far-off calls of departing trains from the station nearby managed to filter through the solid brick walls. Mid-afternoon on a warm Thursday had the other residents out and about, leaving Jack, Teal'c and Sam to approach apartment 8-3 unaccosted. The SF on duty snapped to attention beside Daniel’s door. Jack acknowledged him with a nod and pulled out his keys. Locks released, alarm system deactivated, he pushed the door open.

It was quiet here, too. Motes of dust drifted through sunbeams slanting into the living room from the balcony. The fish tank bubbled softly on the sideboard. Uneasily, respectfully, the three spread out into Daniel’s home. The visible reminders of their friend’s life made his absence even more cutting. Coffee cups and plates left to dry on the drainer, a novel tucked half under a couch cushion, post-it notes bearing reminders and random thoughts were stuck to odd surfaces on furniture and doors. Jack drifted to the balcony doors, pulled aside a curtain and gazed out – the busy daily life outside some kind of appeasement to the feeling of complete _wrongness_ , of life out of balance that this empty home represented.

Hammond had met them at the airfield, compassion and anger warring in him over the abduction. Jack had been eager to get back to base where he could at least feel some degree of command over the situation, but Hammond had asked that they stop by Daniel’s apartment and secure it. Even though Daniel now kept his journals on the base, there was always something he was working on at home and the possibility that he would not return there for some time made it imperative that all material be returned to the security of the SGC.

 _So. Better get on with it._ Jack turned away from the view. Carter was standing by the dining table, hands clenched in front of her, her distress visible. Teal'c was wandering slowly around Daniel’s study, his hands tucked respectfully behind his back as if awaiting the owner’s permission to touch.

“Carter?”

She turned wide eyes toward him, barely keeping her composure.

“How about you go through the papers out here. I’ll check the bedroom.”

She nodded, bit her lip and moved decisively toward the stacks on the table.

“Teal'c? You want to check his computer?”

“I shall, O'Neill.”

Jack opened the hall door and walked through into Daniel’s bedroom. It was dark and cool, the drapes drawn against the bright summer sun outside. Everything was neat and undisturbed – the bed made, clothes hung away in the closet. A half-filled glass of water sat on the bedside table, a sad indication of Daniel’s interrupted life. Jack rifled through the three books there but found nothing of a sensitive nature. He walked into the bathroom, stared for a moment at his reflection in the cabinet mirror. Little to no sleep in the last seventy-three hours couldn’t have helped, but damn he looked older today.

He reached out and ran his hand down the right side of the cabinet, triggered the hidden catch and pulled the cabinet upwards, away from the wall, the contents clattering as they slid around inside. Behind the cabinet lay a smooth painted wall panel. Jack pushed on it gently and it fell back into the wall, then slid aside to reveal Daniel’s safe. He keyed in the combination and opened it. Within were Daniel’s personal diaries, containing his most private thoughts that he wanted withheld from his journals. Even though there was little risk of the kidnappers breaking into Daniel’s home now, Jack wanted to ensure these were safe from curious NID or other operatives who might take the opportunity of Daniel’s absence to try and dig a little dirt on him. The diaries and the small wooden box containing a necklace belonging to Daniel’s mother would be safely tucked away in Jack’s own little hidey-hole. Only Hammond knew of that safe’s existence and Jack would rest easier knowing these little private, essential parts of Daniel’s life were safeguarded until his return.

He resealed the safe and cabinet and walked back to the living room. Carter was back to standing in the middle of the room, gazing at nothing, a sheaf of folders pressed to her chest.

“Find anything?”

She looked up at him, her face a picture of misery. “Just some translations he was working on. There’s nothing to indicate where they came from and the content isn’t classified. It’s just… _Daniel’s_ work.”

Jack sighed and patted her shoulder. He walked over to the study doors and peered in at Teal'c – who was standing stiffly at attention, as if guarding the computer, which glowed on the desk behind him.

“T?”

Teal'c looked at him, his expression subdued. “I have entered Daniel Jackson’s security passwords. My friends, I believe you should see what Daniel Jackson has been working on.”

The unusual salutation pulled Jack cautiously into the room, Carter right behind him. They edged up to Daniel’s desk, half-afraid of what Teal'c had found.

Teal'c turned back to the computer and indicated the directory he had opened. Masses of files filled the screen, all neatly labelled and arranged. Jack ran his eye down them, picking up familiar words here and there: Chaldean, Ancient, Furling, Nox, proto-something-or-other... 

“They look like some of the languages we’ve encountered on our missions,” Carter spoke up quietly. “I don’t recognise all of them, though.”

Teal'c opened one of the files - Cimmerian – and they found another list of files: phonology, root language, grammar, dictionary, and many others. Opening each of these files revealed dozens of documents detailing the precise workings of the language.

“My god, the size of these documents… they’re huge and there must be hundreds of them,” Carter breathed, incredulous as Teal'c opened file after file. “He’s done all this on his own time?”

“I believe Daniel Jackson has been working on this endeavour since the formation of SG-1,” Teal'c stated softly. He paged back to the master file and highlighted the document name for them all to see.

 

 _A GRAMMAR OF POST-TERRESTRIAL LANGUAGES, THEIR SOURCE, PHONOLOGY AND DEFINITION._

 _DANIEL JACKSON PhD PhD PhD MA BA_

 

Jack felt a pang seize his chest and it was several minutes before he could speak. He listened to the others while he explored the true extent of Daniel’s achievement.

“On top of all the work he does on base, for our team and everyone else, he still found time to do this at home. And not even with the promise of having it published one day. Until we go public, nobody will get to see it.” Carter shook her head.

“The preservation of languages both from your own planet’s past and those of other civilizations is truly Daniel Jackson’s passion,” Teal'c said, reverence and admiration in his voice. “His efforts benefit not only those of us at the SGC who rely upon his work to communicate with those we meet in our travels, but will surely be a treasure for all mankind.”

No bones about it, Teal'c was right. Jack heaved in a breath. “Remind me never to take Daniel for granted again.”

“Ditto, sir. Geez, he really is a genius.” Carter futzed with her eyes for a moment. “We can’t leave this here.”

Teal'c scowled. “I would be uncomfortable with Daniel Jackson’s work being held at the SGC. Were it to fall into the hands of the unscrupulous, it could be made to disappear forever.”

“I’ll take it,” Jack said soberly. “I have a place it will be safe in, and there are contingency plans, in case….”

 

 

Half an hour later they left Daniel’s apartment, locked and secure, awaiting its owner’s return. His fish were given into the care of the woman on the third floor who also did his cleaning when he was away. She was the wife of one of the Base’s SF’s and had full approval and clearance.

In grim silence, the three returned to the SGC, making only one stop to place Daniel’s precious possessions in Jack’s secure place.

Walking back into the base was an eerie experience. Everyone who passed them greeted them with crisp salutes or sombre nods, Daniel’s absence an almost physical ache to Jack as he felt his face harden into a stony façade. They changed into fatigues and headed to Hammond’s office in silence, taking the back stairs by mutual need to avoid as many commiserating looks as possible.

Hammond’s face was also hard, anger buried not too deeply, but his smile was genuine when they filed into his office and sat down. He looked them over once and launched into his briefing without preamble.

“We have received a file from Doctor Markova in Moscow. It has the personnel records of all the missing from the Russian Stargate program, including this Colonel Arseniy Chahine.” He slid a folder towards Jack. “We’ve also received another update from the FBI in New York. The van rental clerk has given them a good description of the man who hired the van found in the water.” He dropped a black and white sketch of a man’s face on top of the folder. “As you can see, glasses, beard, long hair and cap – doesn’t give much of an idea of the man’s real face. They have also sent through the results from the forensic testing in the warehouse where Doctor Jackson’s belongings were found.”

He placed another folder on the desk. Teal'c reached for that one while Carter pulled the personnel file over and opened it. Jack stared hard at Hammond for a moment. “You’re sure, sir, that the NID had nothing to do with kidnapping Daniel?”

“I am, Jack. The president himself has come down hard on them this time. He values Doctor Jackson very highly. I’m convinced that whoever has done this is a new player on the block.”

Carter held up a faxed photo of a man in a Russian Colonel’s uniform. “This is him. He certainly wasn’t among the bodies we found on the base in Siberia.”

Jack looked at it – and felt the world drop out from beneath him. For a horrible frozen moment he was staring at a face he’d never thought to see again. Of its own volition, his hand reached out and took the picture, the conversation flowing around him unheard.

Black, soulless eyes stared up at him, a world of hate and revenge seething from a piece of paper straight into Jack’s heart. _It’s you. I should have known you’d creep back to life one day. I never expected it to be now, and I should have. This is my fault. I’ve brought you down on Daniel, god help me._

“Colonel?” Carter and Hammond were staring at him, and at the picture that was now a crumpled mess in his fist.

“I….” Where to begin, how to say that the best friend he’d ever had was in the hands of a cold-blooded killer whose last words Jack had heard were oaths of revenge on all Jack held dear?

“General Hammond.” Teal'c _interrupted_.

Three faces looked at him in surprise. Teal'c held another faxed sheet, this one bearing a photo of the warehouse floor. He placed it on the desk, his faced creased with worry. “This photograph is an infrared scan of the warehouse floor where Daniel Jackson was taken. There is a set of unusual markings on the floor, some fifty feet from the ringbolts where Daniel Jackson was undoubtedly restrained. The FBI was unable to identify the object that would make such a mark.”

Carter and Hammond peered at the picture, Jack pushed himself to his feet and tried to get his brain back into gear. The markings on the floor were circular, eight to ten inches wide, eight feet in diameter. It took a few moments for the realisation to sink in. Carter was way ahead of him.

“Oh, no.”

“Indeed,” Teal'c growled, his hands clenched in fury. “These markings are made by a ring-transporter, most likely from an Al-kesh cargo vessel.”

Jack looked at him, aghast, as Teal'c delivered the denouement.

“Daniel Jackson is no longer on this world.”

 

 

 

 


	6. Night Terrors

The fourth day after Eshmun Night, Daniel was walking through Tsydon’s central marketplace with half of Ba'al’s Companions for company. He followed Arsay as she led the way through a winding back alley in search of a particular cloth seller. Nikkal, Helel and Marah were close behind him, gossiping with enthusiasm and clutching the group’s purchases in beautifully woven baskets. His ever-present guard trailed behind them, loaded down baskets of fresh bread, chocolate and cheeses.

Four stalls ahead, Arsay clapped her hands with pleasure and waved back at them. Marah laughed at her and offered Daniel a bag of tiny, fresh-baked fruit pies. He pulled out a spiced quince pie and bit into it. This was his fourth, so he really should stop, but they were just so morish he couldn’t help himself. Besides, he’d not eaten breakfast this morning – again. For some reason most mornings he found himself plagued with tiredness and nausea. It usually passed after an hour or so and then he was ravenous and brimming with energy. Maybe it was the climate here. The days were becoming hotter and humid, with thick thunderclouds billowing up in the western skies each afternoon, threatening rain but often passing in spectacular lightening shows.

At present, the skies were clear and achingly blue. It was nearly noon and the temperature had to be reaching the high nineties. Ba'al had woken him that morning with the news that the Tok’ra had received his message and it was on its way to Earth. He’s also been annoyingly smug while announcing his success in securing the participation of another System Lord in his Treaty scheme. Daniel took him at his word – he had no other proof to offer – and was relieved when Ba'al went off to attend to whatever it was Goa'uld attended to in their daily lives, leaving him to join the lesser Goa'uld on their shopping trip.

Arsay had declared she knew the perfect bolt of cloth to have made into a new outfit for Daniel, and so here he was, trailing after her down the seventh market alley. He was also getting quite a good idea of the city’s layout, its businesses and industries. He had already made note of a couple of likely people – traders who regularly visited the merchant warehouses at the spaceport – who might be open to some kind of bribe or barter to help him get near a ship. It was the beginning of a plan at least, and he felt better for having some hope of an escape if it should prove necessary.

“Here it is, Daniel!” Arsay smiled up at him and as usual he smiled back. So hard to remember there was a Goa'uld of who-knew how many thousand of years of age inside her. She just looked like a happy young woman with amazing eyes. She flourished a burnished-gold piece of cloth across the stall’s front table. It was beautifully fine cotton, embroidered with tiny carnelian beads in the patterns of birds and flowers.

He ran his hand over it, appreciating the silky softness of it. “It’s very lovely, Arsay. Is it made by the stall owners here?”

“Yes, they weave their cloth by hand in their workroom. The thread is brought in by traders from the north of the city. Much love is used in its creation, do you not think so, Adon?”

He looked up at her sharply. It was the first time one of Ba'al’s Companions had called him by the name that was swiftly becoming standard amongst the human population. He’d been graciously accepting the honorific from shopkeepers and tradespeople, but somehow it set his nerves on edge to have one of the Court call him by the name that had been reserved for the dead demi-god.

“Daniel’s fine, Arsay. And yes, it certainly shows the love that went into its making.” He grinned at the woman behind the stall who had been staring at her customers with undisguised awe.

“Oh. Oh, Adon, you bless our house and our entire future with your praise.” She gathered her nerve and reached out tentatively to take his hand. “Bless you, dear Adon, bless. May your strength be our strength, now and always.”

“Ah….” Daniel blinked and foundered. “Thank you. How much is….” He waved a hand at the cloth and caught the eye of Helel, keeper of the purse for this trip.

“Never! Never would I have it be known I took the Adon’s money! I would fling my children into the sea before committing such disgrace!” She whipped the cloth up and had it folded and neatly stowed into a calico bag before Daniel could muster an apology. She presented it to him with a flourish and leaned over the display table with a cheeky wink. “You’re such a nice looking boy, too.”

He beamed back at her, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. “Well, my thanks again, er…?”

“Tiniall, Adon. Tiniall of the Shadac Weaver’s Lane. Be sure to tell your companions where you found such a fine cloth, won’t you, dear?”

“I certainly will, Tiniall,” he laughed. “Good day to you and yours.”

 

 

So it went for the next few hours. Meandering up and down the hills of Tsydon, through leafy lanes, past homes whose occupants worked in the fields behind them or toiled in cottage industries, chatting with the people, and always subtly trying to gauge whether there was any way he could convince someone to offer him passage off-world. There wasn’t. Everyone was happy in their lives, everyone was devoted to Ba'al, everyone seemed to consider him “the Adon” – the exact meaning of which he was still looking for. It was all getting a little overbearing and unrealistic. There had to be a catch, somewhere, somehow. _Mass brainwashing, maybe? If Linea could do it…. Don’t go there._

The group had paused by one of the many little shrines dotted amongst the houses. It was tucked back into a grove of trees where mossy boulders and lush ferns surrounded the stone centrepiece. Water tinkling into the basin at the foot of the shrine drew Daniel forward.

Helel dug an enamelled cup from his basket and offered it to him. “The water comes directly from the holy spring, Daniel. It serves as both constant offering to the Gods and as a public water source.”

He took the cup, scooped up the water and drank with relish. It was icy cold and tasted of the earth. They sat in the shade, drinking the sparkling water and munching on yet another bag of goodies that had been pressed into their hands by earnest bakers.

Daniel lay back on the soft grass and watched the thunderheads building up yet again in the western sky. His eyes drifted shut, the murmuring of the others faded into the background hum of crickets and insects.

A minute – an hour? – later, he felt a shadow fall over him. He cracked open one eye and saw the silhouetted form of a woman standing over him. A shiver swept his skin. It was her. Ba'al had said she rarely left her temple, yet here she was far down the hill from her sanctuary.

“Astarte?” He opened his other eye and pushed himself up on his elbows.

“Is it you?”

 _Oh, here we go._

“Yes, it’s me.” He bit back the childish urge to ask ‘Is it you too?’

“We have searched, so long….”

“Uh, I, er. Did you find what you’re looking for?”

She didn’t answer, just stared at him with a kind of desperate yearning that had him clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably.

“Well, ah, maybe someone can help you look?” He glanced behind her. The Companions were all holding their ground, not daring to approach their Queen. “What are you looking for?”

She merely stared at him, motionless. Finally, she brought one hand up, clutching something small. She bent and laid a white shape on his stomach with careful, precise movements.

Daniel looked down. It was a shell – another small murex shell; the Phoenician’s symbol of life after death. Feeling decidedly uneasy now, he looked up, words of refusal on his tongue, but there was no sign of Astarte.

Grabbing the shell he scrambled to his feet and looked around the little grotto. There were only the four Goa'uld, his honour guard and their piles of shopping. Astarte had vanished.

 

 

Rumbles of thunder accompanied their return to the citadel. The heat of the day hadn’t lessened any and Daniel was tired and more than a little out of sorts. Astarte’s disappearing act was apparently quite the norm according to the Companions, but he was feeling quite creeped out by her. He was looking forward to getting back to his suite and hopefully not having to contend with Ba'al and his machinations for dinner.

They crossed the causeway and passed underneath the massive gateway. Head down and walking half-asleep, Daniel was completely surprised when he smacked into what felt like a granite pillar. He bounced off and would have fallen on his ass if Nikkal had not grabbed him and steadied him. He looked at the obstacle, and looked up and up – into a sneering face he had hoped never to see again.

“Zippy!”

Jack’s pet name for the outrageously tall Goa'uld popped right on out of his mouth as he took two large steps back and unashamedly placed himself behind Helel.

“Whoa… what the hell are you doing here?”

“Daniel Jackson of the Tau’ri. Lord Ba'al informed Us of your presence here on Tsydon. We are delighted to see you once again.”

“Yeah, well, the feeling is entirely your own, Zip. Been doing a little business with Ba'al?”

“The affairs of the Goa'uld are of no concern to you, human.” Zipacna’s sneer deepened, making his appearance – full skirt and Carmen Miranda hat included – even more ludicrous.

Daniel blinked at him, expression as innocent as possible while making sure to stay out of the Goa'uld’s long reach. There was history between them after a certain encounter a few months previous and he just knew Zip was itching for revenge. “Been swimming, lately?”

The sneer grew into a snarl of rage and Zippy lunged for him. Daniel dodged away and chaos broke out. Helel and the other Companions reached not for him but for Zipacna, the gate guards leaped to intervene and the Rephaim manning the ramparts swarmed down to add their weight to the pile of bodies that eventually brought Zippy crashing down to the stone causeway.

“Well, this day just got better.” Daniel edged forward, a huge smile breaking out. It wasn’t every day he got to see a Goa'uld – at his most pompous and preening best – taken out by his own kind.

“Unhand me, We command you!” Zippy bellowed from under at least forty bodies.

Arsay had managed to stay at the top of the pile. She wriggled off and peered between the tangle of legs and sheathed swords to the approximate location of Zippy’s face. “My lord, Zipacna. You must not! Daniel Jackson is our Lord’s most honoured guest. His safety is paramount and honour forbids any raising a hand to him.” She looked at Daniel, a little grin trying to break away from her stern glare. “Perhaps, _Daniel_ , you should proceed to the palace? It will be time for the evening meal soon.”

He gave her his best impish smile. “Sure.” Two steps forward, then he paused, the opportunity too good to miss. He bent down and was rewarded with a look at the prisoner’s face – beet red, spittle hanging off his lips, his fancy hat ground to mulch. “Bye, Zippy. Nice to see you again. Oh, wait. Actually, it wasn’t. Hope the rest of your day is just like this.”

Daniel straightened up, grabbed his shopping baskets and sauntered off up the pathway, a whistle on his lips and spring in his step.

 

 

The door slid shut on Ba'al’s ingratiating smile and Daniel huffed a sigh of relief. He stood for a while, staring at the closed door, unable to decide what to do next. The fun of seeing Zippy brought low had faded as he sat through another intimate little dinner with his host. Ba'al’s endless assertions that his peace plan was coming together still rang false without any concrete evidence of what he was actually doing. He had emphatically denied that Zipacna was a part of his little cabal and yet he refused to divulge just who his fellow conspirators were.

Daniel was tired, head-numbingly tired. He shook himself and turned toward the bed, his very bones craving rest and his mind already shipping anchor and drifting toward that grey fuzzy place that seemed filled with the jumbled remains of half-forgotten dreams.

The bed stretched before him, seeming acres of downy pillows and satin sheets. His sleeveless vest fell to the floor, startling him out of a reverie. Hands poised on his unbuttoned pants, Daniel felt a chilly creep of dread settle into his skin. He frowned, looked around, but there was no-one present, nothing out of place. Just… the bed. He wanted to sleep, _needed_ to sleep. But not here. This bed was wrong, somehow. He toed out of his sandals, backing away with one hand holding up the drooping pants and kept going until he bumped into the settee furthest away from the bed. He plopped down, still staring at the swathes of silk that seemed to beckon him over. A warm puff of air stirred the drapery and brought a faint scent of flowers as he settled back into the soft couch. He could sleep here just fine.

Daniel curled onto his side, plumped a cushion under his head, closed his eyes and let himself drift off.

 

Consciousness returned an unknown time later. Brain still three-quarters asleep, Daniel felt a presence nearby. He held still, struggling to open his eyes, to look up, anything – but he couldn’t move a muscle. His mind was sluggish, his body completely unresponsive. Panic clenched his heart for a moment, the extra spurt of adrenalin no help in waking up his nervous system. Soft whispers came from somewhere nearby, there was an answer – two intruders – and he could do nothing to protect himself.

Footsteps padded closer to him. A hand touched his shoulder, gently prodding him but he still couldn’t move or even open an eyelid. Another whispered conversation took place over his head, the two men agreeing he was satisfactorily asleep and that they should continue with their assignment, despite the irregularity of finding Daniel on the couch instead of the bed.

Strong hands gripped his bare shoulders, turning him onto his back and folding his arms across his chest. The second man took hold of his thighs and together they lifted him up and placed him on a cold metal surface. Straps were tightened firmly over his legs, hips and chest, causing Daniel’s heart to skip for a beat then pound even harder in panic. Still he couldn’t move, not so much as a fingertip.

Chatting quietly but casually one either side of the stretcher, the two manoeuvred Daniel out of his suite and into a hallway. It didn’t have the grand echoing feel of the main hall either, rather their voices bounced off walls that were very close by. He drew in a cautious breath, then another as he tried to slow his anxiety and focus his body and mind. Little by little his pulse returned to normal, the drumbeat of blood rushing in his ears slowed and allowed him to listen more clearly to his abductors.

They were talking about finding him asleep on the couch, an unexpected occurrence that they hoped would not reflect upon them.  “Every night he’s been tucked up in that huge bed, just like he’s supposed to be,” said the one to Daniel’s right. “Why’s he got to change his habits now, I’d like to know.”

“Well, it’s not our fault, is it? We’re just the delivery men.” The one to his left sniffed with annoyance. “Anyway, he’s completely under, isn’t he? The soporific worked just like it has every night. We’ll take him to the workroom and bring him back, same as usual. I guess we just put him back on the couch instead of the bed. That’s all. Situation normal.”

A cold dread crept around Daniel’s scalp. These people had been taking him from his bed _every_ night? No wonder he slept so late and felt so tired each morning. And what were they taking him for? Ba'al and his smiling lies had covered the true purpose of his abduction and Daniel had fallen for it. Well, now he was no longer under any illusion that Ba'al’s intentions were honourable. The realization fed a surge of anger through his body, making his fingers and toes tingle. The drug was beginning to wear off. He tuned back in to what the two men were chatting about as he willed his limbs to move.

“… so after Eshmun Night she agreed to go to the Harvest bonfire with me. I think she really likes me.” The man on his left sounded well pleased with himself.

“Lucky you. She’s a fine looking woman, no mistake.” The man on his right couldn’t hide the envy in his tone.

“Well, what about you, Ugar? I saw you with a couple of comely lads on Esh’ Night. Any hope of a pairing with them?”

“They did make for a good night’s loving, for sure. I’ve not seen them again since, though.”

“Well, look them up. Sometimes you have to seek out the ones you want, they don’t always come to your door. Are they Guards or townsfolk?”

“Actually, they were both Fleet pilots,” came the reply with a swell of pride in his voice.

“Ah, spacers! Well worth making the effort to form a bond with them then. They’ll keep you active, my boy.”

The one on the right laughed. “Aye. Now, did you not see our charge on Esh’ Night, Ugar? There was many an eye cast his way, mine included!” He laughed again, deprecatingly this time, as if securing Daniel’s favour was an impossible dream.

Ugar mirrored the laugh. “I did indeed, Gapen. He was in the arms of our Lord and Lady early in the night, but I lost sight of him later. Talk in the taverns is that he resisted the advances of everyone – male, female, Lord, soldier or commoner alike. Can you imagine! What willpower he must possess to hold apart from all on such a night. He spent most of the night in the company of The Prize, and even he had a coupling before warding off invitations made to this one.”

Gapen clucked his tongue, and Daniel could almost picture him shaking his head. “He’s a lovely looking lad, to be sure. I… have you heard the townsfolk talk of him? Near everyone now calls him Adon. But I like his name – Daniel. It’s very exotic sounding, don’t you think?”

Daniel would have blinked his perplexity at the man if he weren’t still held immobile by the drug. These guys had dragged his drugged body out of his bedroom and were hauling him off who knew where, and one of them sounded like he wanted him?

“Adon…,” Ugar rolled the name off his tongue. “It’s a powerful name, no mistake. And you know, Gapen, no-one has been called Adon since The Blessed One. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? The commoners usually have good instincts about people. Something new will come to pass, one way or the other.”

 _Well, that was cryptic._ Daniel added that to the growing pile of confusion. He focused his attention on his fingers and was finally rewarded with a slight spasm in his left hand. Encouraged, he wiggled his fingers, miniscule twitches at first, as the two guards continued to gossip about who had slept with whom on Eshmun Night. A minute or two later they halted, Daniel stilled, concentrating on what was happening around him. There was the sound of footsteps, moving away then back to his side, then a metallic click, followed by the all-too familiar sound of a ring transporter whooshing up around him. A zing of sound and that slight disjointed feeling of transportation, then the two guards resumed their chat as they pushed the stretcher into motion once more.

This time they walked for only a short distance before halting, all talk ended as the sound of buttons being pushed filled what sounded like an echoing corridor. A door whooshed open and the stretcher moved again.

“Good eve, Tannin,” Gapen called out to someone. “Here’s our Lord’s guest, as expected.”

“Good eve, Gapen, Ugar. Place him on the reclinare and make sure he’s secured properly.” The voice was female, unemotional and businesslike.

“Do we not always do that?” Gapen muttered under his breath.

“He’s clothed, this time,” the woman remarked.

“That he is,” Ugar replied. “Would you believe he wasn’t in the bed? He was fast asleep on one of the couches. Must have succumbed before he could get himself into bed.”

“Indeed? I’ll make a note of it for our Lord. The procedure may be draining his strength too rapidly.”

 _Procedure?_ Daniel felt another jolt of panic as the straps over his body were loosened and then removed. Hands tucked under his shoulders and thighs and he was lifted away from the stretcher, one of the guards letting out an exaggerated grunt as they moved him down onto a cool surface.

“At least this assignment is giving us plenty of exercise,” Gapen chuckled. There was a clink of metal and Daniel felt an arm brush over his. Determined not to be tied down once again he put every ounce of will into moving his right arm – and it lurched up, clumsily knocking away the guard’s hands.

“Hey!” The guard’s shocked exclamation was accompanied by a shuffle of feet.

With a mighty effort, Daniel managed to get his eyes half-open. Flushed with the success of moving his arm, he turned his head to his right. Well, flopped it to the side was more accurate, but it gave him a blurred view of two men, dressed in the Rephaim’s House Guard uniform, standing and staring back at him in utter surprise.

“Don’t….” The word was slurred and soft, but it contained all the anger and alarm that had been building in him since his rude awakening.

The guards peered at him like two unblinking owls caught in the wrong hunting field. A woman in rose-coloured overalls joined them, all three continued to stare at him as if he’d grown horns. “Well,” she finally managed. “This is completely irregular.”

Daniel frowned, concentrating on his limbs, which were tingling madly with returning sensation. A mighty heave and a wriggle brought him rolling onto his side. He glared back at the three who were making no move toward him. “Don’t,” he croaked out once more.

The woman straightened up and pushed the two guards further back. “Do not touch him. We must inform our Lord immediately.” The guards looked none too pleased at that prospect but they stayed back.

Daniel felt his weight slowly shifting, dragging his body perilously close to the edge of the table or whatever it was that he’d been laid upon. His fingers clutched numbly for a hold but were mostly useless still. Gravity took hold and with inevitable, slow-motion gracelessness, he rolled right off the table and dropped some four feet to the padded floor beneath. He bounced slightly and rolled over onto his back. The two guards leapt back a few feet as if he were suddenly contagious.

With a grunt, Daniel rolled onto his side once more, vainly trying to get an arm under his chest and push his shoulders and leaden head up enough to keep the guards in view. Somewhere out of sight he could hear the woman speaking urgently. He planted his forearms on the floor and concentrated on pulling his knees up under his hips, shifting his centre of gravity so he could rise and get away from whatever kind of torture was planned for him. Although, just staying stable enough to kneel was proving to be way more difficult that he’d hoped. His thighs trembled with the strain of supporting his weight and his arms felt like jello – not enough of the drug had left his system yet. Panting deeply, Daniel nearly had his knees where he wanted them when his balance shifted, his hips tilted to the right and like a foundering ship, he rolled helplessly to the side, thudding back onto the rubbery floor surface, his muscles quivering and useless.

“What’d do t’me?” he slurred. His fingers clawed for a hold and he wriggled forward a little. Well, if he couldn’t walk out of here, he’d damn well crawl.

Inch by inch he dragged his numb and tingling body over the floor, the three servants of Ba'al watching his progress in silence. They made no move towards him and he was beginning to entertain some wild hope that he would get out of this room when the door – still ten feet away – slid open, revealing a pair of gleaming black boots. Hope shrivelled inside him and he slumped, burying his heavy head on his arms.

“Well! Daniel, once again We find Ourselves apologising for Our lack of hospitality.” The boots moved with measured pace into the room, halting just six inches away from where Daniel lay. “We most honestly regret your discomfort, my friend. We shall make all efforts to redress this situation.” Ba'al’s voice filled with steely menace and the two guards shuffled where they stood.

Daniel tried to speak again, his words tangling on his uncooperative tongue. “Wha’… what… doing to me?” He raised his head and squinted at Ba'al’s boots. With a mighty effort he pushed his body to roll over and lay looking up at the Goa'uld who was regarding him with that familiar, faintly amused expression.

Ba'al twitched an eyebrow at him then turned away, leaving him on the floor while he talked quietly with the woman.

“Why is he awake? Did we not give express orders that our guest would be unaware of Our nocturnal operations?”

“You did, my Lord. It appears that the Adon was not asleep in his bed, rather he was on a settee near the windows. I believe he may not have inhaled the full dose of the sleeping draft from that location.” The woman’s voice was respectful but quite matter-of-fact. “I shall ensure that it does not occur again, Lord.”

“May We take advantage of this situation? You did say the apparatus can be used upon a wakeful subject, yes?”

“That it can, my Lord. However, the conscious mind will repel the advances made by the scanner. I would recommend keeping the subject subdued under a sedative solution of at least fifty percent strength. If he resists too much we can easily return him to full unconsciousness.”

 _“No.”_ Daniel pushed on his arms uselessly, attempting to roll back onto his stomach and make for the door. _I’m not a lab-rat to be played with at whim._ His left arm smacked painfully on the stone floor at the edge of the rubber cushioning. He jerked one leg up to give him leverage and swung his right arm over his body, using the momentum to pull his shoulders and torso over so he now lay on his side. He panted for a few moments then tried to shift his tingling arms and turn completely - until a polished black boot gently nudged his chest and he plopped onto his back like a broken rag doll.

“Careful, my dear Daniel. We do not wish to see you harm yourself. You must relax and allow Us to see to your needs.” Ba'al looked down at him, his solicitous expression almost convincing. “Your wellbeing is Our prime concern.”

“Liar,” Daniel muttered. “Deceiver. Peace treaty, my ass. Why d’I even want to believe you?”

“What we told you was not a lie. We do need your help to restore the balance of power in this galaxy. Chaos and unrest have ruled for far too long. Innocents die every day, Daniel. It is waste, and We abhor waste. Your ability to contribute to Our plan is most unique and your name will be lauded by generations to come for bringing peace and prosperity to all the worlds ruled by the System Lords.”

Daniel allowed his eyes to close for a moment. _The gall of this creature – to stand there blatantly spouting his lies. He wants something from me, something to use against the other Goa'uld. I have to stop him._ He opened his eyes and stared at Ba'al with as much defiance and hate as he could muster. “Liar.”

A calculating smile spread across Ba'al’s face. “Everything we told you was the truth, Daniel… from a certain point of view.”

“A _certain point of view_?” The breath in his lungs escaped him in a disbelieving wheeze.

“As we speak, Anubis is gathering armies and fleets of ships. Your knowledge will save millions from slavery and desolation.”

“I don’t know _anything._ ” He sucked in a deep breath, feeling the numbness recede with each minute. “Believe me, if I could do what you say, I would help. But I don’t… whatever it is you think I know, you’re wrong.” He tried again to rise but failed, flopping back onto the matting. “Please. Let me go.”

Ba'al gazed down at him for long moments, his expression flickering from interest to calculating coolness. He snapped his fingers and the two guards smartly stepped forward. “Return Our guest to the reclinare.”

“No.” He still lacked the strength to fight and the two men picked him up with ease, sliding him onto the table. It seemed to be made of some kind of dense, polished wood, its cool surface chilling the sweating skin of his back. There was a soft hum below him and two panels extended, one on either side. The guards each took an arm and secured him by wrist and elbow to the panels. Cold metal bindings were snugged tightly over his chest, hips, thighs and ankles. The guards stepped back and took up their post by the door.

Panic began to emerge again. Daniel rolled his head and watched Ba'al conferring with the woman. “Ba'al, please…. Don’t do this.”

Ba'al ignored him and finished his instructions to the woman technician. She walked toward him, an object he couldn’t identify in her hand. “Ba'al!” Daniel called once again. His gaze never left the woman as she calmly engaged the little device and pressed it against his outstretched arm. There was a sharp hiss and the scent of sweet flowers – the same scent he’d smelled in his rooms. Instantly he began to feel faint and disconnected. A wooden plate rose out of the table at his feet, followed by another two, rising up on either side of his head leaving him effectively blinkered and unable to turn.  He felt pinned and helpless as a butterfly on a lepidopterist’s board.

The woman reached for something out of Daniel’s line of sight. A weird shimmering effect swept over him and suddenly he felt as if he were both falling and flying at the same time. He bit back a cry of surprise, sucking in a startled gasp as the table bent underneath his body – his legs dropping down, the supports pulling his arms below the level of his torso. His back was arched and the whole table tilted twenty degrees, bringing his head up to meet a gleaming filigreed metal array that swung into place above him. The sense of falling didn’t abate and he felt the drug flowing through his system, gradually disengaging him from his limbs. He was panting, dragging in deep breaths.

A hand reached out of nowhere and gently rubbed his heaving chest. Daniel focused on the sensation and followed the arm up to a tall man, his face smiling and familiar… Ba'al.

“Be at ease, Daniel. The gravity-minimiser in this reclinare will ease the stress upon your body of Our memory retrieval procedure.”

“Please…,” Daniel trailed off, the words tangled and lost in his floating mind.

Ba'al turned away, nodding to someone. The twisted metal descended over Daniel’s head like a flock of tiny birds. Mesmerized he stared up at the patterns of light slanting through the gaps, and slowly he relaxed, gave in to the drug, lost contact with the cool wooden surface beneath him, and soared upward, free and flying.

 

 _Jack was there, smiling, relaxed, saying something Daniel couldn’t quite hear. The noise of the Nile in the background was drowning his words. Water splashed, children laughed as they swam, the wind flapped the sails of the felucca with a crack like a gun shot…_

 _… he kept his finger on the trigger, clenched so hard his hand ached, his shoulder pounded by the recoil as the P-90 flared and spat round after round at the metal bugs. Still they came, crawling up the walls, around corners, upside down on the roof, feet clacking, mindless, relentless. His clip ran out.  He ducked around Sam as she took up the defence, ran down the corridor and skidded to a halt behind Jack who covered him while he reloaded. The noise was horrendous..._

 _…Chaka roared, the sound taken up by his brethren, proclaiming their freedom, their determination to follow the path shown them by the one human who declared them sentient and worthy of life. The ground shook with the force of their cries. Daniel looked up, saw the death-gliders arrowing toward them, canons pounding the ground in advance. He looked for Chaka but he was gone, a geyser of dirt and tree branches his only memorial. He dived for cover…_

 _… grabbed for the woman beside him - desperate to protect her for she was the epitome of grace and intelligence and all that was good in the universe. Skaara’s life depended on her. Lya turned her calm face toward him, her gentle smile filling him with peace. The sound of explosions faded, she leaned in to him, her body warm, breath sweet, she kissed him…_

 _… and he ran his hands over her long, slim body, revisiting pleasures he’d thought buried in the regret of time. Her red-golden curls draped like a curtain over her face, tickling his eyes as she moved him beneath her. Urgently she joined with him and rode him unceasingly, pleasure turning to exquisite pain. She wasn’t the same, her face was twisting into cruelty. Desperate to bury the hurt inside him, he closed his eyes…_

 _… to the face beside him. A pretty face. But the mass of blond curls belied the truth he was hiding from: the dark hair he yearned for was cold and still below the sands. This face was a lie too, youth and stolen remembrance sheltered the heart of the Destroyer. She cried out for his death…_

 _… and he plunged into the warm water, sucked right through the field holding back the inevitability of drowning. He couldn’t breath, but it didn’t matter because they were all around, holding him, nurturing him, sharing their words, their song, their life, their plan…_

 _… and spat him back to the harsh light of living. His teammates were there, strength and comfort always. Together they stepped forward onto a new world, and if hope was now gone, there was always still something new to find, something to fill his mind, his days. She was a memory, the boy safe but lost…_

 _… the boy…_

 _… a baby…_

 _… “the son of my wife”…_

 _… “but not your son”…_

 _… “no”…_

 _… No…_

 _“No!”_

Daniel flung himself awake, clinging grimly to the monk’s echoing words he tore his way free of memories and forced his eyes open. Above him, the filigree metal pulsed with light and power, and beyond it stood Ba'al, his attention directed elsewhere but his hand still methodically rubbing a soothing pattern on Daniel’s belly.

“The connection has been broken.” The woman’s voice echoed over to him.

“Replay the last sequence.” Ba'al’s hand stilled for a moment, fingernails slowly scratching over Daniel’s skin as it curled into a clench. “Re-engage.”

Daniel jolted loose once more, the cool surface of the reclinare vanished and he fell…

 

 _… into a maelstrom of staff-weapon fire, the deafening chatter of machine gun bullets, cries of the dead and dying. His Good-Father was there, free now, rescued, but she was still there. She had the boy…_

 _… the boy he had delivered from his mother’s body with his own hands. Brought into life, but not given life. He had to find him, make sure he was safe…_

 _… she passed the child over, a heavy, wriggling bundle now held tightly in the servant’s arms. “Go now, take him while the Chappa’ai is still open. Go to Kheb. You will be safe there. Hide in the mountains. We will come for you when it is safe. But… conceal yourself from any others who might be there. The stories may yet be true.”_

 _The woman took the child. Stepped through the portal and was gone, the hopes of her Lord gone with her. She turned away, walked over the dune to her tent. Her Jaffa fought valiantly but would lose this battle. Her lip curled in disgust. The Tau’ri were fewer in numbers but their weapons were effective. Already the slaves were free and running for the Chappa’ai. The Shol’va was there, traitor in green. She would have him before this day was done. He was coming up the hill, bringing himself to her vengeance. The soldier at her side fell. Her attention shifted, and saw – him. Husband. Lying in the dirt, fumbling with his weapon. How attractive that one was. She would hurt him before breaking him. Then she would play with him for a long, long time. She turned away, swung her hips enticingly as she entered the tent. He would follow. They always followed…._

“Sha’re!”

Daniel broke free from the images, eyes snapping open once again. He was gasping for breath, winded as if he’d been running. Ba'al withdrew his hand, crossing his arms over his chest as the metal hood retracted. He looked down at him, speculation creasing his face.

“Ah. So there is revealed the secret Amonet hid from everyone. Rumours abounded, as they do, but no-one knew for certain what it was that she concealed. Heru’ur is said to have lost a legion of Jaffa searching for this… Harcesis.” Ba'al tossed his head back and laughed. “Apophis always was so arrogant to think he could get away with -. And all along Amonet had hidden the child, where was it? Kheb. What perfect irony.”

“That’s it? That’s what you’re after? Sha’re’s child?” Daniel croaked in disbelief. Appalled and amused at the same time, a small laugh escaped him. “You’ll never find him.”

“Indeed?” Ba'al nodded to the woman and the hood descended again.

With Kheb fresh in his mind, Daniel fell…

 

 _… and was there, red walls, candles, brilliant starry skies. A flash of light in the corner of his eye…_

 _… he passed through the wall. She smiled at him, all the wisdom of the universe in that smile. She saw the potential in him. He knew she would take him with her and the boy. He only had to ask. His courage failed..._

 _… “Bye”…_

Daniel pushed away from the memories, finding it easier this time to surface and drag himself back to awareness. The hood retreated once more. Ba'al stared down at him.

“We are impressed, Daniel.”

“You’ll never find the boy. Go looking for Kheb. Go see if you can find him. In fact, I dare you! All you’ll find on Kheb will be a lot of burned bodies and an empty monastery.”

Ba'al cocked his head to one side and seemed to be considering the dare. A smile twitched the corner of his mouth. “This was the information Apophis revealed to Sokar. No, Daniel, do not distress yourself on this matter. We have no desire to find the child. He and his protector hold no interest for Us. We will not seek _her_ out.”

Confused, Daniel tried to clear his head of the drugs. “Then what? Why are you doing this? What are you looking for? I told you when you brought me here that the SGC’s codes would have been changed the moment I was taken. You’ll never get through the iris and even if you land on Earth, you can’t use anything I knew to gain access to the base.”

Ba'al nodded absently and turned to speak to the woman. “The sequence with Amonet. Is it another?”

“What? Another what?” Daniel ground out, pushing his body against the bindings. “Let me out of this thing.”

“It is, my Lord,” the woman spoke over him.

“Astounding.” Ba'al placed his hand on Daniel’s chest and pressed him back down. “Continue and enhance.”

Daniel’s world gave another gravity-induced lurch and he dropped back, his mind losing conscious control over the memories flooding around him.

 

 _…then, suddenly there she was. Sha’re. His beautiful, loving, tempestuous wife. The kohl around her eyes made her look too distant, too cold. He reached out to wipe it away. She stretched out her hand, gold, glowing… like her eyes…._

“ _No!_ God, _no_. Get out, get away from her!” He pushed away the visions and managed to focus on Ba'al – who was intently watching something to the side, something flickering…. “You’re watching this? How… you son of a bitch. _Leave her alone!_ You parasites have done enough harm to her. You stole her and now she’s dead.” His voice caught and he gasped with physical pain. “You’ve taken everything from me. I won’t… I won’t let you take her memory too.”

Powerless, held down and drugged, yet still filled with fury, Daniel took the only option open to him. He raised his head as high as he could then slammed it back down onto the solid wood bench. Blinding spears of pain shot through his skull, but he jerked forward and did it again and again. Hot bruising rose up around the impact area and a sharp pain blossomed behind his eyes, but he gritted his teeth and pulled forward for another blow. If he ended up a vegetable, so be it. At least the only thing he’d thought he could keep safe would die with him. He crashed his head back once more, but this time his bleeding skull met someone’s hand. Dimly aware of shouting going on over him, he moaned and tried to pull his head up but there was another hand on his forehead preventing even that small movement. Something soft was slipped under his head, then wide metal bands were wrapped over his forehead and chin, leaving him immobile, useless….

“Don’t take her… she’s all I have left…,” he whispered, unable to stop the tears leaking down his face and into his ears.

“Hush, my Daniel, hush. We steal nothing, be assured. Your gift will be treasured and respected, We promise.”

 _No_. Anguish filled him, robbing his voice away. A sob escaped him as the hood descended for the final time. The scent of flowers floated up his nostrils and took him away, away from the cold table, the overwhelming helplessness and sense of failure. Away from Ba'al’s concerned face staring down at him, away from the thought that he would never again have the comfort of his memories of Sha’re to keep him sane, keep him alive.

Ba'al’s warm hand rested on his chest, over his heart.

Daniel gave up the fight.

He fell.

 


	7. The Rise Of Eshmun

Sleep faded in a tangle of broken dreams and ruined hopes. He lay drifting in a grey void, eyes firmly shuttered against the realities of the day, but however much he wanted to avoid them, recollections of last night’s events seeped into his memory, replaying in an endless loop, driving home just how much he’d been pinning his hopes on Ba'al’s talk of peace. He’d known the Goa'uld was not to be trusted, none of them could, and yet he’d wanted to believe, wanted to invest some of himself in a future that promised peace. Not just for his planet but for all of them out there – their people labouring away under the griding heel of slavery and oppression. And he couldn’t deny he wanted it for himself too. Five years of fighting on the front lines in a war that promised no hint of a resolution - he was worn to the bone with it, tired in body and soul and even worse, he feared he had little left to give, that his efforts would not be enough when it really counted and he would let his team down in the one moment they needed him. The thought of them being lost when he could have, should have, prevented it…. He had enough nightmares to cope with.

Little wonder he’d clutched at Ba'al’s honeyed words like they offered his own personal salvation. It was too big a promise to have ignored. Now it was just another sham, a lie designed to curry his cooperation in his own defilement. The disintegration of hope was something he should be used to. He felt a chasm of despair yawning beneath his feet, threatening to suck him in. He had nothing left now….

Daniel’s eyes flew open – thrown completely awake in one shocking jolt. He hung in limbo, uncertain of anything except a dread that something else was wrong. Very wrong. He stared at his hand, clenched on the pillows next to him. Something was missing… what – _oh, god_.

“Sha’re.” He whispered her name, his whole soul clenching in fright. His mind went blank, empty of everything, even his own name. All he knew was a hole existed within him. He had to find her yet he baulked, panicked at the thought of not being able to remember her anymore. His hand curled into the pillow, crushing it. He took a deep breath, prepared for the agony and pushed himself to find her….

There! Her bright pixie face smiled down at him, dark sweet-scented hair curled over her face, she reached out to him… and he felt her hand on his cheek. A wordless pain-filled grunt escaped him. He still had her…. The relief was overwhelming, and the anger that swiftly followed it was enough to push him up and out of the bed. His pants had been removed by whoever had returned him last night. He cast about for something to put on – and froze. Ba'al was calmly seated in an armchair, staring at him with curious regard.

“You bastard,” spat Daniel. “You lying, miserable _snake_.” He lunged forward, fist clenching, arm swinging back, fury building hot and quick.

Ba'al rose to meet him, intercepting the blow with admirable reflexes. He grabbed Daniel’s wrist and twisted, using Daniel’s momentum to swing him around. He wasn’t quick enough to dodge the elbow that smashed into his face, right between the eyes. Ba'al staggered back into the chair but his grip on Daniel’s arm didn’t slacken. Daniel rammed his left elbow into the Goa'uld’s throat, heedless of the pain shooting up his right arm as Ba'al pushed it up between his shoulder blades. Ba'al growled in his ear and pinned Daniel’s left arm in an iron grip. A wriggle and a shove and Daniel was toppling off him to land on the soft rug, Ba'al’s weight crushing him into the pile.

“I will kill you, I promise,” Daniel ground out. “If I never do anything else in my life, I will see you dead and hung on a fence, you son of a bitch.”

Ba'al coughed and cleared his throat. “Come now, Daniel. We can discuss this situation like civilized men.”

Daniel heaved up but without the use of his arms he couldn’t shift the Goa'uld off his back. “You’re not civilized and you’re not a man. You’re a reptile, a parasite, a leech, _alep, tahvt mekir, dool hikmat….”_ His Phoenician pronunciation was rusty but the words rose up from the depths of his memory with as much venom as he could muster.

“Such language! You are angry, my Daniel. We understand.”

“Angry! I haven’t even begun to be angry. “I, I’ll… _nasak ssohr yawm Ba'al mt_.”

“Shhh, calm yourself, Daniel. You feared the loss of your memories. How could you not when you are unfamiliar with Our devices? It is most unfortunate that you woke last night, just as We were at the point of examining the neural pathways that contained the memories of your unhappy meeting with your wife.”

Infuriated, Daniel cried out and lurched to one side, trying to shake off the body on top of him. He succeeded in rolling onto his side but Ba'al remained plastered against his back, trapping his arms and throwing a leg over Daniel’s for good measure.

“We feel the pain you suffer, Daniel,” Ba'al murmured. “We know what it is to lose one We love and how precious their memory is. Believe Us when We say We would never deprive you of the comfort of your wife’s memory. Believe Us.”

“I don’t. I don’t believe anything you say anymore. And the minute you let me go I’m _gonna_ kill you. Believe _me_.”

Ba'al chuckled, his breath sending a shiver down Daniel’s spine. “No-one will be dying, We promise you that. You do not yet accept Our goals, Daniel.  When you do and when you appreciate the role you will play in freeing the people of the galaxy from millennia of torment and slavery, We hope you will forgive Us for the insensitive methods We have employed and the hurt you have experienced.” He tightened his grip into an intimate hug. “Your name will be blessed and praised for all time, Daniel.”

Daniel heaved up again but couldn’t budge the Goa'uld one inch. “I don’t want to be praised or blessed or lied to or _anything_. Why are you doing this to me?”

“We have not lied, Daniel. Our actions have been, upon reflection, no doubt hard for you to understand, but We have not lied. You do possess unique knowledge that We require to bring Our plans to fruition.”

Daniel shook his head, straining against the iron-like grip on his limbs. “If my ‘knowledge’ is so unique and your intentions so honourable, why not just ask me for what I know? Why the subterfuge? Why kidnap me in the first place?”

“Ah. So, if We had issued an invitation for you to come to Our home and subject yourself to Our neural scanning process, you would have accepted? We see the error of Our ways.” Ba'al’s voice was loaded with sarcasm. “No doubt you would have presented yourself immediately, with the redoubtable Colonel O'Neill at your side. We perhaps would not have been accommodating of the Jaffa Teal'c, or Major Carter with her alliances to the Tok’ra – they may have stolen away Our loyal warriors before we could have drawn breath.”

Daniel suppressed a sudden pang at the thought of having Jack here with him. “So you got me here, why not just ask what you want to know, instead of drugging me and dragging me down to that… thing every night?”

“Alas, dear Daniel, the knowledge we require is shrouded within your memory to such an extent that – as Our experts advised Us – had we questioned you openly, your attempts to remember may have only succeeded in burying the memories deeper. The neural scanning was the only way We could find what is needed without damage to either the knowledge you hold or indeed, your own precious memories. Deception was required, and it has become Our undoing. We do bear you no ill intent, Daniel. We wish you to understand this.”

“No, I don’t buy that. Memory doesn’t work like that – and anyway how the hell can you possibly know that I know something when _I_ don’t even know I know it?” Okay, that sounded like one of Jack’s lines, but it served the purpose.

“We have a… source. An irrefutable source, and no, We are unable to divulge their name just at this moment.”

He sighed and let his head thump down on the polished floor, the fight going out of him. Ba'al would never admit to what he was really after. Daniel knew deep down, that waiting for rescue from the SGC was a long shot. He was going to have to help himself. Somehow he’d have to find a way off this planet. He’d not even seen a Stargate so far. If Ba'al had one it was probably hidden, so that left a ship of some kind.

“So what now? You going to keep drugging me, lock me up in my ivory tower, or just lay here all day? Won’t your ‘Companions’ get jealous?”

Ba'al chuckled a little and relaxed his grip. Daniel pulled his arms forward and rolled away, bounding to his feet and retreating behind the armchair.

“We wish your stay with Us to be as pleasant as possible,” Ba'al said, propping his head on one hand, reclining comfortably on the floor. “To that end, Our Companions have planned to take you on a picnic today – to one of the most beautiful parks Our city possesses.”

“A _pic- a- wha…_?” Daniel blinked at him. More and more he felt like he was falling down a never-ending rabbit hole.

“Come, see, they await your presence in the gardens below.” Ba'al rose elegantly, strode over to the open windows and disappeared out onto the balcony.

Completely non-plussed, Daniel scrubbed a hand through his hair, then over his face for good measure. _Nope, I am awake. I think._ He took two steps after Ba'al then altered course and snagged up a throw from the couch and wrapped it around his waist. He ventured out onto the balcony, keeping his distance from Ba'al, and peered down into the gardens. Sure enough, there were the Companions – Consorts and Concubines – milling on the grass amongst a pile of wicker baskets, rugs and servants.

He slid a sidelong glance at Ba'al. “And what happens after this little picnic? You drug me and rape my memories again?”

“A harsh word to use, Daniel. We are merely… browsing for the information We require. It does no harm at all. You have not felt any ill affects, We believe?”

“No harm? Are you-, jeez, you have no concept of the word. You’re rifling through my memories, the very things that make me – _me_. It’s rape, pure and simple and I’ve….” _Gone through that once already. Twice…?_ His brain insisted on supplying the doubt that he’d managed to keep at bay for a couple of years now. No point in dragging it up here and now. _Focus_. “I’ve had enough people messing with my head. Just… just let me leave.” It was a futile plea but it popped out anyway.

“We shall remove Ourselves from your presence today, Daniel. Oh, We trust you feel no pain from your head injury? We were most alarmed to see you harm yourself like that. The fault is Ours. We regret pushing you to such desperate measures. It will not happen again.” Ba'al walked slowly back into the suite. “Enjoy the day with Our loved ones.”

Daniel watched him go, heard the click of the outer door closing, but stayed staring after him for a long stretch of time. One hand absently rubbed the back of his head, which bore no trace of his attempt to escape Ba'al’s invasion. In one sense it was a relief to know that his suspicions of Ba'al’s motives had been correct, but he still didn’t know what was at the heart of his plan. And he was still stuck here, with no visible means of escape. So far. He glanced down again at the picnickers. If he was free to roam the city then maybe he could slip away somehow _. Heaven helps those who help themselves._

Slowly, he walked back into the room, looking for his pants. They were nowhere to be seen, and the chests that had held previous offerings of clothing were all empty. Eyebrows furrowing he kept looking. _I’m getting out of here even if I have to go naked._  If Ba'al thought the lack of clothing would be sufficient to keep him prisoner, then the Goa'uld was in for a surprise.

“Good morn, Daniel Jackson.”

Daniel started badly and swung around to see Elsh standing in the doorway to the bath. “Whoa, sneak up on a guy why don’t you?”

“My apologies. I came to help you in your daily ablutions whilst you were in conversation with our Lord.” Elsh walked silently into the room and placed a brightly coloured cloth on the bed.

“Yeah, well, I don’t need any help abluting. In fact I don’t even want to get in that bath today. I just want some clothes,” Daniel replied grumpily.

“The cloth you purchased in the market town yesterday has been prepared for you,” Elsh said, indicating the golden cloth on the bed. “The weather is most warm today. I hope you will find this comfortable.”

He strode over to the bed and grabbed the garment. He shook it out, expecting a pair of harem pants or whatever Helel called the flimsy things he wore. Instead, the material was just that – a piece of material, oblong in shape, intricately finished around the edges with lapis beading that matched the fabric’s design. He turned it over – nope, definitely no pants involved here. He glared at Elsh, so many scathing comments lining up in his mouth that they log-jammed and nothing came out.

Elsh took his silence as approval and took the thing from his hands. “This design is much favoured by the Court members on hot summer days.” He pulled away the throw rug then leaned close and wrapped the fabric around Daniel, circling it to settle low over his hips before securing it over one hipbone with some intricate silver catches. He picked up a fine chain supporting silver twists and lapis pieces carved into the shape of butterflies and hung it around Daniel’s waist. The dangling adornments tinkled and clanked over his hips.

“Oh. A sarong.” He could live with that. “Fine, I’m out of here.” He headed for the door, ignoring Elsh’s offer of breakfast.

Daniel yanked open the suite’s door, not at all surprised to find his ‘honour’ guard waiting attentively on the other side. He pushed through them and marched down the corridor, his anger with Ba'al and impatience to find a way off this planet making him walk much more quickly than a man wearing only a sarong should. Eventually he slowed and adjusted his stride. He was through the imposing foyer and out on the grass when Elsh panted up beside him, mutely offering a pair of thongs for his feet.

Daniel pursed his lips and took them, a grudging “Thanks” slipping out. He pulled them on, quietly accepting it would be harder to make a break for it in bare feet. The brightly-clothed members of Ba'al’s harem were coming toward him, all gaily chattering with excitement about their day out and each apparently wanting to show off a favourite feature of the city to Daniel.

He could barely manage a civil expression on his face. These people – _Goa'uld_ , for heaven’s sake – were supremely unaware of what their Lord and love was doing to him, and he doubted they would even care if they knew. Unable to muster acknowledgements to their inane babble he started walking toward the citadel’s gates, Helel at his side, the others swarming along behind them.

He just needed to get away. Somehow there would be an opportunity to get free of them and he’d just run. If he couldn’t convince anyone to help him, he’d make his own way to the spaceport, sneak on board a cargo ship and get the hell as far from Ba'al as he could.

Well, it was a plan.

 

 

The picnic party turned right at the end of the causeway and headed along the shore, past busy fishermen and women sorting out the morning’s catch. The neatly tended parklands abutting the sand gave on to a meandering track that led in gently twisting turns up the side of the hill away from the town’s homes. Daniel walked silently, watching the Goa'uld scamper and dart around him, most of them excitedly teasing each other or collecting wildflowers, their skimpy clothing fluttering in the still air. Often one or the other would bound up to him, eager to show him a plant or bird or particularly favourite view from the many bends in the pathway. They treated him like a long-lost brother, excited to share their stories with him, to be friends with him and have him as one of their own. They just didn’t act like the Goa'uld he was used to. _Maybe they don’t get out much._ He gradually slowed his steps, letting them pull ahead until he was accompanied only by Prize – striding solemnly in the rear.

This guy was an even deeper enigma. While the others acted like a bunch of teenagers, despite them no doubt being hundreds if not thousands of years old, Prize bore himself like a servant. There was no trace of the usual arrogance or confidence he expected in a Goa'uld. He was deferent to everyone. Daniel glanced sideways at the man and found himself being studied in return. Caught out, Prize blushed and quickly dropped his gaze to the ground.

“Forgive, Adon. This one has no right to stare at you.”

Daniel felt his eyebrows rise. “Oh, uh, sorry, I was doing the same. Can I ask you a question?”

Prize straightened up and nodded, his face still expressionless. “My duty is to serve the honoured guest of my Lord.”

“Yeah, well, you can drop the ‘honoured guest’ shtick. Truth is I’m a prisoner here.” The young Goa'uld frowned slightly, not ready to believe that statement yet. Daniel changed the topic. “Ba'al told me he renamed you ‘Prize’. May I ask what your real name is?”

“My name, Adon, is that which my master gives me. He who I used to be is no more. Now, I bear the name of Prize. When my Lord Ba'al is satisfied with the conclusion of his treaty with my – rather, _the_ Lady Morrigan, he may grace me with a new name that will bring him pleasure to address me by.”

Daniel sorted through that for a moment, then said, “So Morrigan gave you to Ba'al? To secure, what did he call it? A business deal?”

“Well, in truth my Lord Ba'al defeated Lady Morrigan’s troops during a ‘disagreement’. There were many casualties, particularly within the ranks of my troops. My failure to the Lady was just reason for her to take my life, but during the negotiations my Lord Ba'al saw the… value, the Lady placed on my existence and he insisted I be bound to him. He is most intuitive. The Lady Morrigan was highly grieved to be parted from me.” A small sigh escaped him and he whispered, “As was I from her.”

“Your name is your actual status – a prize of war?” Daniel asked. “You mentioned ‘your troops’. Were you a First Prime of Morrigan?”

“My rank was that of Vizier, Adon. It is the rank above First Prime, responsible for overseeing the entire military component of a System Lord’s forces: ground troops, space and air fleets, and the intelligence squads. The Lady Morrigan placed great faith in my abilities and rewarded me with her personal company on many occasions. My Lord Ba'al chose well in his desire to wound her with my loss.”

 _So Ba'al takes Morrigan’s most valued general and lover. Looks like the Goa'uld do place value on the lives of their own kind, to some degree at least._ Daniel regarded the man walking beside him: the proud bearing clearly contained within a respectful, restrained demeanour. His status was obvious in his dress – bare feet, simple green linen pants, armbands joined by fine gold chains to a band on each wrist all bearing the horned symbol of Ba'al. In contrast the rest of the court was lavishly decorated in every conceivable manner of jewellery they could display on their bodies. Barely an inch of skin was left free of bands, bangles, rings, precious stones and piercings.

“How does Ba'al treat you compared to life with Morrigan? You obviously miss her.”

Prize studied him, his expression carefully controlled. “My life belongs to my Lord now. It is not for me to pass judgement on his treatment of me or any other, Adon. We all have our place in his court. There is no desire for anything more or less than that which we have.”

“You don’t want to rise to a higher status, be favoured by him more than you are now?”

“Should my Lord elevate me to a status above, or below, that which I now hold, I will be honoured to receive it.” A faint smile flickered over his lips for a moment, then faded back into the usual stony façade. “Our ways are unfamiliar to you, Adon. You walk alone, master of your own destiny. I cannot imagine what that must be like. I’m unsure whether to envy your solitude or pity you for never knowing how our kind views life.”

A short, sharp bark of a laugh escaped Daniel. “No, don’t think for a moment I want to experience life from a Goa'uld’s point of view. I’m quite happy being me. Besides, Ba'al said he had no plans to use me as a host, if he can be believed.”

“My Lord would never be dishonest, Adon. That much I do know about him. Honesty is everything to him. He must intend grand things for you if he does not wish you to host one of us. You are truly honoured to be under his protection, Daniel.”

The use of his proper name jolted him a little, realising it was the first time in days that anyone other than Ba'al had not called him Adon. “Yes, lucky me.” A sour smile twisted his face. “Prize, you’re not buying into this whole ‘Adon’ thing are you? You’ve seen the way life is on many different planets. You’re not as sheltered as the rest of the Court. Why is everyone calling me Adon?”

“It is a title of great honour, Daniel,” Prize hedged.

“No, there’s more to it than that. Ba'al must have had other guests he held in high status and they don’t seem to have been given the name. I get the distinct impression people want me to be a new Eshmun.” He frowned as another thought popped into his head. “Or the resurrection of the old Eshmun.” Prize offered no comment to that speculation, so Daniel tried another tack. “Can you at least tell me about Eshmun? How long ago did he die? Why is he so important to the people of this city? I can understand them worshipping their ‘gods’ but to hold a human in the same standing is pretty unusual.”

Prize let out a thoughtful sigh. “As you know, Adon, Eshmun is much loved by our Lord Ba'al and the Lady Astarte, as well as by the people of this city and ourselves, the members of the Court. He was beautiful and very kind. When my Lord Ba'al brought his people to this planet its fields were very poor, and gave little yield when planted with crops. The people despaired and feared death from hunger. It is said that Eshmun went up the mountain to the source of the watercourse that gives life to the whole city. There he bestowed his seed and his life’s blood into the water. His Gift gave life to the land and the rivers and the seas, and the people have never wanted for sustenance since.”

“It sounds like a very compelling myth,” Daniel nodded.

“But Eshmun’s tale is no myth, Daniel. All of my fellow courtiers have told me the story and most of them were present when it happened.”

“He was human,” Daniel protested. “He couldn’t possibly have had the power to bring fertility to soil and life to rivers.”

“None the less, it happened as the story says. Eshmun was so weakened by his Gift that he slept for the whole of the winter season. When he awoke, spring woke with him and the hills were covered with new crops. Fruit and vegetables grew in abundance. Beasts fattened and gambolled like their own young. Fish were so plentiful they threw themselves into the fishers’ nets. Such bounty had never been seen and the Lords celebrated with the people. Eshmun lived with our Lord and Lady. Every day and night was a joyous event for them, made possible by Eshmun’s Gift. When the seasons waned and the harvests were over, Eshmun renewed his Gift. Then, tired, he slept through the winter only to rise once more with the spring. When the time came for his final Gift, our Lady Astarte’s belief that he would one day rise again was taken up by all the people of Tsydon.” Prize smiled as if he had seen the Gift himself. “Who can say how the Gift happened, Daniel? The fact that it did and is a miraculous thing should be enough for us, do you not think so?”

“Well, in my experience, miracles usually have a reasonable explanation behind them,” Daniel said grudgingly. Astarte’s obsession had turned into a myth believed by the entire civilization here. There had to be much more to this story, but he had a feeling only one person knew the truth and that was the one person he was trying to get away from. He was just as much a prisoner as Prize, slotted into a role from which there was no prospect of escape. Prize, however, was completely accepting of his lot in life. There was not going to be any help from him in leaving this place. Daniel fell into a brooding silence, strolling after the company of picnickers and soaking in the increasing heat of the sun.

 

 It _was_ a hot day. Very hot. He could feel the warmth sinking into the bare skin of his back and shoulders. And the temperature did nothing to improve his mood. Each twist and turn of the path offered views of the sea, sparkling out to the cloudless horizon and dotted with more than a dozen glorious sailing ships either entering the harbour or gliding away into the distance. He finally stopped under the shady bower of one of the scenic lookouts next to another small Eshmun shrine and gazed at the ships in thought. Naturally, the whole company stopped with him. He tuned out their chatter and looked at Anath, standing nearest and staring at the view with an appreciative smile.

“Anath, those ships – where are they going?”

She turned her head and smiled at him. “They journey to our sister towns up and down the coast, Adon. They carry the bounty of our fields and goods for trade.” She scooped a pottery dipper into a stone basin at the foot of the shrine and offered him a drink of the cold stream water within.

“Thank you. These towns, there’s a few of them? Are they large in population?”

“Some are half the size of Tsydon, some are quite smaller.”

He mustered a smile, trying to keep her interested. “They must be a long way away if you transport goods by sea. I would have thought it’d be easier to use an Al’kesh cargo ship… something like that?”

“Why no, Adon. All vessels are prohibited from flying anywhere over the planet, apart from the spaceport, of course. Our Lord Ba'al decrees that our people should live in peace and not be bothered by noisy ships passing over their heads. And they frighten the livestock. It is much nicer to see our magnificent sailing ships plying their trade along the coast.”

“Oh. Right. Good idea.” He nodded and resumed the walk along the path. _Damn, that rules out heading for another town. Spaceport it is then – wherever that may be._

The party continued on: weaving along the path then heading inland through groves of orange trees and fields of ripened crops crowned with glorious flowers. They passed several more shrines tucked away in secluded niches or set out under enormous spreading trees. Once, glancing back as they moved into an olive grove, Daniel saw a woman standing at the tree-shrine dedicated to Eshmun they had recently passed. He stared hard, certain that it was Astarte: standing motionless, her red dress fluttering about her, staring directly at him. Unnerved he looked away and followed Helel into the trees.

 

The servants who had followed their procession like a warlord’s baggage train had set up in the park that spread out halfway up the hill, erecting shelters of fluttering cloth under which the Consorts and the Concubines arrayed themselves in splendorous elegance, shaded from the sun and served with tantalising picnic fare and endless glasses of effervescent wines. The park was every bit as beautiful as Ba'al had promised. Garden beds planted with solid banks of the same coloured foliage sat like squares on a patchwork quilt – blue, greys and silver bordered ranks of trees which themselves were an explosion of red, yellow and lavender flowers. Beyond, the park blended into a leafy forest that stretched up to the crown of the hill where a glint of sunlight on marble indicated the three temples.

Daniel sat apart from the others, some way up the hill, refusing food and company. He kicked off the thongs that were not made for walking long distances, and leaned back on his elbows, eyes fixed on the distant line where sea melded with sky. Eyes closed, head tilted back and soaking up the sun’s heat, he deluded himself for just a moment that he was somewhere else, another planet where heat was the norm and there was the safety of love and family close by.

Sha’re…. The image of her holding her baby leapt to his mind, unbidden but startlingly clear. Possessed by Amonet but still his beautiful wife, the flamboyant clothes failing to hide the sweet uncomplicated woman he loved. The rest of the scene played out once again, Amonet giving the boy to her servant, instructing her to go to Kheb, stay hidden in case the tales of a powerful alien were true-.

 _Wait a minute._ How the hell could he know that? He’d never seen Amonet with the baby. Shifu had already been sent through the Stargate by the time SG-1 arrived, leading the rescue team in search of the kidnapped Abydonians. And yet, the vision had been as lucid as any other that had been dredged up by Ba'al’s infernal machine. More so, even. Daniel could feel the memory of the hot wind scouring the sands of the planet, the astringent scent of the air – so different to other deserts he’d been in. But the servant and baby had left the planet before he’d arrived so how the hell could he have such a memory in his head?

He felt a creep of unease sneak over him. He sat up, eyes still closed, and forced himself to concentrate. He replayed the scene again and again. It was always the same – the servant woman holding baby Shifu, staring into his eyes, accepting instructions and turning to face the Stargate. The hand pressing the symbols on the DHD that would send her to Kheb… the hand that was not his. The hand that was wreathed in a twist of gold, fingers capped, crowned with a glimmering jewel…. _Not my hand. Her hand. Amonet’s. It’s not my memory. Hers…._

His eyes opened slowly and he stared unseeing at the grass in front of him. _Amonet’s memories. I’ve got Amonet’s memories in my head?_  His stomach churned but there was nothing in it to bring up. After a few moments of hard swallowing he got himself under control. Revolted, he concentrated on how this could have happened. Sha’re’s urgent last thoughts to him as Amonet slowly fried his brain had come to him via the ribbon device. Something more appeared to have been dragged through at the same time. Was it just memories he’d received or was there more? Was this what Ba'al was really looking for? If it wasn’t the whereabouts of Shifu Ba'al was after, then what could Amonet have concealed that Ba'al was this desperate to discover? Daniel considered delving deeper in search of any other memories from Amonet, but his mind skittered away from the task. This was not something he wanted to do here and now – alone on a hillside amid the enemy.

 _I have to get out of here. If Ba'al is after something that Amonet was hiding, then I can’t let him get it. Or can I? If it’s just the Goa'uld’s secrets he wants maybe I should let him have them. I could let him see whatever is there… and then what? He’ll let you go? Yeah, right. What if he did, though? You go home like a good boy, tell the general what happened and he’ll have to tell his superiors. I’ll be in a concrete room in Area 51 so fast my feet won’t touch the ground. They’ll never trust me again._

 _I’m so screwed._

A shout of laughter brought him out of his reverie. A game of tag had developed further down the hill. Ba'al’s courtesans were chasing each other and collapsing in clouds of silks on the ground, their shrieks sounding more like children at play than adult symbiotes who could easily be thousands of years old. As he watched, Nikkal snatched the wreath of flowers adorning the head of Yarikh and raced away, her fellow Consort hard on her heels. He caught her and dragged her squealing to the ground. Others joined in the tussle, even the servants stopped their work to laugh and point at the melee developing on the grass. And no-one was looking Daniel’s way.

He picked up his thongs, rose and walked slowly, calmly toward the border of trees nearby. His heart was thudding in his chest but he kept his pace until the leafy branches enclosed him. He twisted around to see if anyone had noted his absence but they were all concentrating on the mass-wrestling match that now included Ba’al’s entire harem.

Daniel turned and fled into the forest.

He headed upward, logic telling him the spaceport had to be beyond the hill that backed the township. He’d have to circle around the temple precinct at the top and travel as high up as he could to get the best vantage point for scoping out the landscape beyond. Hopefully, the spaceport would be within sight, otherwise he was going to need to transport and that would present all sorts of problems. He ran lightly, trying to stay on grass and avoid the scattered twigs and fallen branches that threatened his bare feet. The flimsy shoes would be useless, but he kept hold of them – no telling what kind of terrain he’d be faced with on the far side.

After a five minute flat-out run through the trees, he halted, intently listening for sounds of pursuit over the labouring of his lungs. Nothing. So far, so good. He bent, grabbed the back hem of his sarong, brought it up between his legs and tucked it into the waistband, effectively turning the garment into a pair of shorts. Much better for running. He yanked off the dangling decorations and dropped them under a pile of fallen leaves. Set, he headed off once more, keeping the sun over his right shoulder and moving at a steady, ground-eating jog.

Keeping to the trees, Daniel ran for more than twenty minutes before he found himself at the forest’s edge and faced with open fields, sun-ripened crops bending in the breeze.  In the distance, a group of farm workers moved slowly along the furrows, harvesting the grain. The sun flashed off their long scythes as they swung in rhythmic sweeps. The cut stalks were bundled and thrown into a hopper that floated along behind them on some kind of anti-gravity field. Shaking his head over the incongruous sight, he melted back into the foliage and continued on.

He picked a course that angled away from the fields but kept taking him up. He ran lightly, leaping over fallen branches and animal holes, searching for a way around the hill that would offer continued cover from prying eyes. Yet each time he tried to head east he found himself at the edge of cultivations – the grain crops giving way to ranks of grape vines or bushes bent low under the weight of their bright yellow fruits. He ground his teeth in frustration. Further up there were rows of olive or citrus trees, which would at least offer some kind of cover for a half-naked man wearing a bright orange sarong. Daniel headed through the forest, fixing the orchard in the map he was building in his memory. Only a hundred yards on he came across a tumble of boulders, large and small, some type of quartz-filled rock that lay scattered between the trees. Behind them rose enormous rocks, some the size of his car or house. Tree trunks grew tenaciously between them, creating an effective barrier that forced him to turn west in search of a path.

His pace slowed considerably as he weaved between tree and boulder. Faced with a step four feet in height he put a hand on the rock to pull himself up, only to yank it away with a sharp hiss of pain as the exposed quartz cut into his skin. His palm stung and bled from a dozen tiny wounds. Daniel peered closer. The quartz gleamed like glass shards and it was everywhere, in each boulder, big or small. He steadied himself and slid his feet into the thongs.

“Great. Just perfect.”

He pushed on, taking care not to step on or touch the boulders if he could help it. But keeping away from them was also bringing him further and further west – toward the temples and the chance of discovery.

Another ten or so minutes of wary scrambling brought him to a sizeable river. Its cold sparkling water churned rapidly down over a bed of polished stones and larger, scattered boulders. Some of the boulders lay in groups and even supported clumps of grass and a small plant with masses of large red anemones that trailed down to float on the surface. The river was a least twenty feet wide and quite deep in places but on the other side the terrain was gentler, the rocks thinning out and replaced with grass and flower-covered soil. Daniel gazed up. The east side of the river was an ever-thickening barrier of trees and vicious rocks. No choice. He’d have to cross the river and hope to circle around the west side of the hill. If he went high enough maybe he’d be able to stay well above the temple precinct. He edged carefully out of the trees. There was nobody in sight or ear-shot. A pair of large white birds settled in a tree above him, squawking boisterously and making him jump. He glared up at them, then took one final glance up and down the river. Assured he was alone, Daniel waded into the swiftly flowing water.

The deep-earth chill of it made him wince. His toes curled defensively as they quickly lost feeling at each cautious step. He followed a line of large rocks that stretched almost the whole way across, creating mini-waterfalls that flowed out from under the flowering stems. The water-smoothed stones twisted and gave under his feet, each step threatening to dump him on his ass. Progress was painstaking and taking way too long. He felt exposed and vulnerable; his back itched with imagined eyes peering at him.

Two-thirds of the way across he placed his left foot on a large, semi-flat stone, and took a step only to jolt sideways as the stone gave under him. Arms windmilling wildly, his foot slid down into a silt-covered hole, ending up jammed at a painful angle between two rough, hidden rocks. He got his other foot down safely and caught his breath, vaguely registering a feeling of pain from his numbed foot.

The water around his legs gradually turned red. Bemused, Daniel watched the stain spread downstream.

“That’s not good.”

He peered down through the water and saw the offending rock was covered in glittering, knife-like shards of quartz. He dropped his backside down onto the smooth boulder behind him, squashing the covering of flowers. Gingerly, he twisted his leg and pulled his foot free, feeling the quartz scratch more cuts into his flesh in the process. As soon as the pressure on his foot was gone a dark red cloud flooded into the water, swirling around his legs before drifting downstream.

“Oh, _crap_.” Spears of agony shot up from his foot. He grabbed his ankle, gritted his teeth and took a close look at the damage.

Three long cuts along the instep and on the sole of his foot were bleeding profusely. The flimsy thong was completely shredded. He pulled it off and tossed it away. Daniel clamped his hand over the wounds, let out one of Skaara’s more choice swear words and tried to compose himself. He pulled the sarong free from the waistband and ripped a strip off the hem, quickly binding his foot as tightly as he could. Instantly, the cloth was stained with blood. It probably wasn’t life-threatening – he dimly recalled Janet saying foot injuries could bleed as freely as head wounds – but his chances of sprinting over the hill to freedom just narrowed considerably.

He let his foot fall back into the water, hoping the cold would slow the blood flow. His right foot was completely numb now. He balanced that up on a smoother rock and rubbed the circulation back into it. The flow of the river continued to stain with his blood. A long, thin trail of red water bled away from him, bubbling over rocks until it dipped out of sight around a bend. His injured foot began to throb, pounding up through his leg in time to the harsh beats of his heart. Dragging in deep breaths, he hauled his leg out of the water and clamped his hands over the wounds, pressing tightly and concentrating fiercely on staying upright.

 _C’mon, gotta get moving. They must have noticed I’m missing by now._

Urgency gnawed at him. Daniel ripped another makeshift bandage from the sarong and bound that over the first. Dismayed, he watched the blood seep quickly into the new layer. He’d never get far running or even hobbling on it in this condition. He’d have to find somewhere to hide until the bleeding stopped. He didn’t even want to contemplate the possibility of infection.

Cautiously lowering his leg, he got himself balanced and tried to stand. A hot spear of agony shot up from his foot as soon as he put his weight on it. One hand steadying himself on the flower-covered boulder, he found he could just tolerate a little pressure on the ball of his foot. A grimace creased his face. Ten feet of rushing, knee-deep water hiding who knew how many more treacherous rocks lay between this exposed position and the riverbank. No choice. He took a hobbling step, nearly slipped again, and ended up with his butt back on the flowered boulder. The rocks under the water were worn smooth and covered with slimy algae. Maybe he should just crawl on hands and knees over the flower-strewn boulders. Getting wetter was not a problem. He pushed his glasses firmly down over his nose and tried to map out a secure course.

A sound broke his concentration. A cry? Someone yelling? _Dammit, not yet._ He looked up anxiously. There – coming into view around the bend in the river – a man, two men, trotting along the bank, gesturing at the water and the telltale stain of blood that was leading them straight to Daniel.

He sat back on the boulder, trying to look casual and not at all like he was escaping from a nest of Goa'uld. The two saw him and halted in their tracks, staring openly at him and then exchanging confused glances between them. They looked to be priests from the temples – their red robes bore the Caduceus symbol of Eshmun with Ba'al’s curved symbol and Astarte’s horned sun on either side.

 _C’mon, move along. Nothing to see here, guys._

They edged closer, their heads swivelling to take in the thinning stream of blood in the water and Daniel perched amid a carpet of red anemones, his sarong floating out around him in the current. He tried to ignore them and slid back down to his one good foot for another attempt at getting to dry ground, but his first step foundered and his injured sole slipped and jarred on the treacherous rocks. Another cloud of blood welled up, swirling around his legs before floating off downstream. Even diluted as it was by the river, he knew he was losing a lot of blood. The sight of it brought a sharp cry from the two priests. He looked up and saw they were much closer now and as he watched, they fell to their knees, clutching each other for support.

“Shapash, can it be true?” cried one to his companion. “Our god returns to us! He rises from the Bodashtart as the legends promised.”

The second priest, bald and red-clad like the other appeared a little less hysterical and peered intently at Daniel. “We witnessed his resurrection from the hand of our Lord Ba'al, Shalem. The people have already embraced him as the Adon and now we see with our own humble eyes – he rises from the Bodashtart amid the stain of rebirth.” An expression of near ecstasy filled the man’s face. “You, the Priest of the Lord’s Dusk and I, the Priest of the Lord’s Sun, we are truly blessed to be chosen witnesses of this holy event!”

Daniel stared at them, his face creasing in confusion. Whatever these guys were on about, he wasn’t going to stay and find out. He grabbed a hold of the trailing flower vines for support and pushed through the water, trying to ignore the stabbing fire of pain from his foot. He’d slipped and staggered at least four more feet before he was halted by the sounds of a great many people calling and moving through the trees he’d recently fled through. A desperate glance over his shoulder confirmed the worst – they’d found him.

Brightly clad bodies flitted between tree trunks, calls of “Adon!” and “Daniel!” mingled with the squawks of disturbed parrots and the chatter of the picnic party – wending towards him. He watched the stain floating away from him and for one hopeless moment considered throwing himself after it. He closed his eyes, defeat accepted, energy seeping out of him as surely as his blood was tinting the water beneath him.

Loud splashing brought his eyes open. Prize, Helel and Melqart had plunged into the river, their faces etched with concern. The rest of the Court gathered on the bank like a clutch of anxious mother hens.

“Daniel, we feared we had lost you,” Helel called, picking his way over the sharp rocks with elegant agility. “Are you injured? There is much blood-.”

“I cut my foot, that’s all.”

They gathered around him, steadying him, lifting his leg to exclaim in horror at his injury. Over their heads, Daniel watched with sinking resignation as more people rounded the bend of the river on the priests’ side, moving quickly and obviously alerted by trail of blood in the water. _May as well have waved a flag._

Great. Astarte was among them. She alone was not hurrying. Instead, she moved as if she were in a dream: her bare feet almost floating over the grass, red dress drifting around her body, a dreamy smile on her face. The two priests threw themselves at her feet, talking over each other in their eagerness to proclaim their discovery. She caressed their bald heads and moved past them, her eyes fixed like a viper’s on Daniel’s. The babble of the gathering crowd slowly subsided into an expectant hush.

Propped up by Prize and Helel, Daniel found he couldn’t tear his gaze from the goddess. She strolled forward, straight into the river and up to Daniel. She lifted a hand to his face, stroked it gently, reverently.

“Beloved, you have returned to me. I, who gave you life. I, who gave you death. The holy waters took you away. Now they bring you back to me. My love, my life, mahhib. My Eshmun.”

Beneath them, the chill water of the Bodashtart mingled the blood of a human with the red silks of a goddess, and the whole city seemed to sigh with joy.

 

 

They insisted on carrying him. Ignoring his protests, Prize and Helel linked their arms under his hips and carried Daniel at the head of an ever-increasing procession, through the trees along the riverbank into the tended gardens surrounding the temples. Astarte led the way: hips swinging, hair bouncing, she was skipping like a girl.

The cuts on his foot were deeper than he’d first realised. The young Goa'uld had hauled him out of the water and unwrapped the bandages, revealing the three wounds had sliced through tissue and muscle right down to the bones. His stomach had turned queasy at the sight. Astarte, on the other hand, had taken an intense interest and dipped her hands into the blood still flowing freely. Staring at him, unblinking, she then curled her tongue around her fingers and elegantly licked his blood from them. Speechless, Daniel held her gaze until she gave him a dimpled smile and ordered his foot bound.

Now, with Helel’s yellow silk shirt serving as another bandage, he was carried in triumph through curious worshippers stirred up by the two priests darting among them and loudly proclaiming the return of their lost god, Eshmun.

“It is true,” one woman’s awed whisper carried to him. “Eshmun has returned as the Adon. My cousin Adarel serves in our Lord’s home. She saw Him bring the Adon to life. He was dead before their eyes and our Lord gave him life. Our blessings will be ten-fold now He walks among us once more.”

More than a little light-headed from blood loss, Daniel blinked muzzily at her as he passed. She was just a normal woman, middle-aged, nicely dressed in pants and embroidered shirt, face filled with adoration – for him? _They want me to be their god._ Ba'al had promised he wouldn’t turn him into a host, but it seemed he’d achieved godhood without the snake.

He watched Astarte lead the way, not into her own temple but along the path leading up to Eshmun’s. _She’s obviously besotted with Eshmun. If she thinks I’m him returned… use it. Use her. She’s a Goa'uld, she has power of her own; maybe she can protect me from Ba'al. Convince her to let me stay here – it’d be easier to escape the temple than the citadel._

Astarte was practically dancing as she led the way across the grass and plunged past the vine-covered pillars and into the Temple of Eshmun. Worshippers backed away in respectful silence as Daniel was carried up the steps. Immediately, the lush scents of earth and life inside the temple flooded into him, reviving his spirits and energy. Astarte stood some distance down one of the winding paths, then turned and led the way into a room that Daniel hadn’t seen on his first visit here. It was small, cosy, decorated with fine sheer curtains, deep-cushioned chairs and a large round bed, thick with quilts and soft blankets. Unlike the gardens of the temple, this was a room to be lived in. Helel and Prize deposited him carefully on the bed.

“Your goddess thanks you, young ones. Leave now.”

“Iylit.” The two bowed deeply before Astarte, then gave Daniel the same courtesy before backing out of the room. The door swung shut, leaving him alone with the Goa'uld. She stared at him for long moments until weariness took hold and he dropped back to lie on the bed, eyes fluttering half-closed.

“It is you.”

Not a question this time. Daniel paused, considering his response carefully. Dangerous to masquerade as someone else; even more so to pretend false godhood. Teal'c would have a fit. Jack… oy. Still, he knew what awaited his return to Ba'al’s clutches – the invasion of his memories that _was_ pure rape. There was no other word for it. The agony he’d felt this morning when he thought he’d lost Sha’re…. _I can’t face that again. And I can’t let him take any more of Amonet’s memories either._ If he could play them off against each other, beg Astarte’s protection…. It was all he could do at the moment. He rolled his head to face her, fixed her stare with his and committed to a path to which he had no idea where it would lead him.

“Yes.”

 

She was by his side in a flutter of red gossamer.  Soft hands bedecked with rings on each finger feathered over his face, tracing the outlines of his jaw, temple, and cheeks; renewing an association with her long lost lover who was now somehow different.

“I knew, mahhib, I knew when the bald men spoke of the one who rose from my Lord’s gift of  life – I knew it was you. Why did you not come to me then? I have waited, so long. I said I would and I did. I waited every dawn, every sunset. Every turn of the seasons, I waited for you.” Astarte leaned close, her cheek brushing his, her breath ghosting past his ear. Her lips found his brow with soft kisses. She covered his eyelids with a kiss each, continuing on to nuzzle every inch of skin while her hands ruffled his hair and caressed his neck and shoulders. “My love, my lettuce, my honeyman…”

Daniel tried to relax into her touch, tried to hide the instinct to recoil from such intimacies with a Goa'uld. He frowned at the way she referred to herself as ‘I’, rejecting the royal ‘We’ that Ba'al used constantly. He blinked hard, struggled to grab onto some kind of coherent thought. “I… I didn’t remember. It’s been so long….”

“No matter, irshyt, I forgive you. Your sins of the past will no longer stand between us. We will lie together for all time, my sha’r, my bar’ky.” She slid onto the bed beside him, stretching her body along his, her hands fondling his face and hair with needy, unceasing strokes.

 _Oh, maybe not such a good idea._ Anxious to distract her, he let out a yelp when her foot knocked against his inured one.

“Adon, you cry out! What pains you, mahhib?”

He rolled to one side, trying to slip out of her arms but she came with him as he sat up. “My foot – I cut it. You know, the great bleeding gash down there? Don’t suppose you have one of those healing things on you?”

Astarte glanced down his body and recoiled as if she’d not previously seen the bloody bandage around his foot. “My lettuce! You cannot bleed – now is not the time!” She leapt off the bed and flung herself through the door, returning seconds later brandishing a healing device.

Daniel slumped back on the bed, weariness swamping him. “Finally.” Warm tingles swept around his foot as she directed the healing beam over his injuries. He could almost picture the blood vessels, muscles and skin knitting back together, the deep gashes vanishing as if they had never been. As the pain faded, so did his grip on consciousness and he fell gently into sleep.

 

He couldn’t have slept for long and when he did wake it was to find his head being cradled against Astarte’s breast. She was rocking him gently and crooning soft nonsensical words. He sighed and tried to roll out of her arms but she clung on tenaciously. Wetness splashed onto his forehead and he realised she was crying.

“Astarte?”

“Sweetling. Honeyed One. Our days together have come again. The temple will ring with our love. The little ones in the city will sing with our happiness. Such wonderful hours will be once more.”

“Well, as nice as that sounds, I’m afraid Ba'al might have something to say about it.”

“Our Lord will share our joy, mahhib.”

“No, I don’t think he will. He won’t let me stay here, Astarte.” Daniel peered up at her. She was staring off into a future he couldn’t and probably didn’t want to see. “You don’t know what he’s been doing to me. Every night, he drugs me, invades my mind, steals my memories.” He took a gamble that he was actually getting through to her and reached up to stroke her cheek.

Immediately she gazed down at him, her arms wrapping him in a grip that was fuelled by Goa'uld strength and uncounted years of longing.

“You are here with me now, my Eshmun. You are safe.”

Safe even from Ba'al? He had to drive the point home. “Help me. Protect me from him. Let me stay here with you.”

“Yes.”

Uncertain relief flooded him. He relaxed into her embrace. Then she spoke again.

“Until the darkness takes you away.”

 

She couldn’t help herself. So ecstatic was she to have her lost love returned, Astarte stayed with Daniel on the bed for only a few minutes more. She wouldn’t elaborate on what the darkness was that would take him away, but he knew with dread certainty that his gamble was not going to pay off the way he’d hoped. She kissed him soundly and bounced off the bed. Running to the doors, she flung them open and proclaimed to the hundreds of people who had silently gathered outside; “Eshmun, God of Our Land, Bringer of the Gift, has returned to us! Give thanks, all, and spread the news to the citizens of His Land.”

A great cry of delight rose up from the people in the temple. Many went running to spread the news. Astarte’s priestesses came forward bearing glass bottles with unguents and oils, dishes of aromatic food, cloths to wash their new-found god with and silks to dress him in.

“Oh, boy.” Daniel crawled off the bed as they advanced on him but he couldn’t fend them all off. They quickly stripped away the torn sarong and washed him where he stood; scented bubbles slid down his skin, cleansing the dirt and blood stains, then the women rubbed him dry. _Well done, Daniel. You’re a god now, better get used to this._

They dressed him in flowing green satin, a tight wrap around his hips that fell away to reveal his legs. His chest was once again bare and he slapped their hands away when they came at him with what looked horrifyingly like nipple rings. He strode over to Astarte. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly, then grabbed his hand and tugged him out into the temple. Everyone bowed down before him, his protestations ignored. As Astarte led him along the main winding aisle, people reached out to touch his feet or legs or even just to let his garment brush their fingers. Some sobbed quietly and Daniel began to have grave misgivings about what he’d gotten himself in to.

Then they were at the main entrance which was crowded with priestesses, priests from Ba'al’s temple and what had to be priests – shaven headed and green clad – from Eshmun’s temple. These last in particular were weeping with joy. They parted silently, giving way before their risen god. And at the back of the crowd, standing in a shaft of brilliant sunlight was Ba'al. Astarte let out a cry and ran to him, flung her arms around his neck, laughing and sobbing with happiness.

“Our love has returned to us! I knew he would return and he has, he’s come home to us. We are complete again!”

Ba'al hugged her gently, looking over her curls at Daniel with an odd mix of curiosity and sadness. Astarte dragged him back to Daniel, proudly showing off her new acquisition.

“You’ve had a busy day, Adon,” Ba'al said.

Daniel shrugged. Ba'al knew exactly what he’d hoped to achieve by his little deception. He caught Astarte’s eye and she leaned into him, caressing his skin.

“He is mine now. All shall be as it was before, won’t it? We shall spend our days in bliss, my lettuce.” Her hands slid around his hips and blatantly squeezed his groin.

“Whoa! Hey, uh….” His brain helpfully supplied the little fact that lettuce was considered an aphrodisiac in Phoenicia, while his tongue tried to untangle itself. “Remember – love – you promised I’d stay with you always. You promised to protect me.”

“For ever more will you lay by my heart, my _irshyt_.” Her amorous assertions did nothing to help his confidence, particularly as Ba'al sidled closer.

“Of course, my dear. As before. Darkness falls however.”

“And then the light rises,” she murmured into Daniel’s shoulder. She took his hand in hers, kissing his fingertips one by one. She sucked on his index finger in a completely pornographic way then offered his hand to Ba'al.

Ba'al took Daniel’s hand, leaned close, and as Astarte nuzzled and kissed his chest, Ba'al wrapped a hand around his neck and kissed him hard on the lips. Astarte scraped her teeth over his nipples and Daniel shuddered with unwanted sensations. Ba'al pulled him close, his arms firm around his shoulders. Daniel stared past him, scattered brain cells only managing to take in the darkening sky outside. Huge thunderheads boiled up over the sea, blotting out the horizon, streaks of lightning illuminating the last few fishing vessels hurrying into port.

Astarte stepped back, her whole being alight with joy and desire. She kissed his fingers one final time then dropped his hand. Ba'al’s grip on him was unbreakable: Goa'uld strength subtly applied, keeping him pressed close to his captor. Entreaties and protests on his lips, Daniel couldn’t utter a word before something sprang up around the two of them, wrapping in a dizzying spiral. There was a feeling like gravity failing and then suddenly he was on a stone balcony, the threatening sky much closer, surf pounding below on the foundations of the citadel.

He was back in the palace, his gamble for freedom an utter failure, and now he had the amorous Astarte to deal with as well as Ba'al’s machinations.

 

Ba'al released him and he staggered away, exhaustion and blood loss taking their toll. He leaned on the parapet, sucking in deep lungfuls of salty air. Lightning speared through the inky sky in a soundless blaze that sent the hairs on his arms prickling. The merciless ocean continued to throw itself against the stone below and for a moment he considered doing the same, but even death was not an escape from the Goa'uld and the sarcophagus he was sure lurked somewhere in the palace. Just the thought of that thing sent shivers over his bare skin.

Daniel hugged his arms around his chest and tried not to think of what the night would bring.

 

 

 

* Phoenician words

  

  * alep – ox
  

  * tahvt mekir – under trader
  

  * dool hikmat – without wisdom
  

  * nasak ssohr yawm Ba'al mt – cast back the time of Ba'al to death
  

  * Mahhib – lover
  

  * Irshyt – desire
  

  * Sha’r – flesh
  

  * Bar’ky - gift
  



 

 


	8. The Exalted Lord Yu Huang Shang Ti

“The day has been long and tiring, I’m sure.” Ba'al spoke softly behind him. “Come, eat. Restore yourself.” He walked through an open archway into the room beyond, leaving Daniel with a rumbling stomach as mention of food woke his empty innards.

He followed the Goa'uld and found himself in Ba'al’s throne room. Dimly lit, the shadows hung darkly in the vast chamber. A single pool of light draped over the throne, and a small table laid with savoury-scented pots sat at its foot.

Daniel walked slowly toward the light.  “Tell me. Tell me truthfully, who are you working with? Are you really trying to bring peace to the Goa'uld worlds or are you just another tin-plated despot with delusions of godhood?”

Ba'al smiled slyly and plopped down on his throne, arms hanging loosely over the sides.  “The threat of Anubis is more grave than the Tok’ra or Tau’ri comprehend. His rule over the galaxy would bring destruction to all our people – genocide, I believe, is the appropriate Tau’ri word. Anubis once had great power, but that power brought about a greater downfall. Now he has returned, and Our intelligence informs Us that the power he now – or soon will – wield far surpasses that of the combined strength of the System Lords. We will be cast aside as leaves blown by the winter winds. Should that happen, my dear Daniel, there would be no one to stand in his way and protect Our young or the human populations of Our worlds. Your world will fall, Daniel. Would you see your people slaved, slaughtered, subjugated? However distasteful to you, the truth is the only thing that protects Earth at this moment is your treaty with the System Lords. Remove the System Lords, and how long do you think your weapons and armies will hold back the might of an attacking Ha’tak fleet?”

Daniel pursed his lips to hold back the answer Ba'al already knew. It was why he had stayed his hand at the Summit. Earth had no hope against a rogue Goa'uld who refused to acknowledge the treaty. “And rule under you would be so much better?” he sniped.

“You have seen for yourself how the people of Our city fare. Do they hunger? Do they suffer unjust punishments? Do they cower in fear at Our approach? No. We are not Apophis, Daniel. Nor are We Ra. You must set aside your notions that their ways are Our ways. We work for the survival of _all_ souls, Daniel.

“I’m sorry, but what about the millions you killed on those two planets you destroyed. Don’t they count in your grand scheme of benevolence?”

“Your intellect does you great service, Daniel. We must admit to those atrocities, but in their execution We found the beginnings of Our determination to change not only Our ways but those of all System Lords. We were so focused on the defeat of Sokar, the lives of those living on his planets were of no consequence to Us, until after the deed when We saw with Our own eyes the enormity of the devastation wrought by Our hand. It was wrong, Daniel. We cannot bring the dead back to life, but We can prevent a recurrence of such loss in the future. We mean to atone for Our errors. Please believe Us.” 

Belief. It came back to that then. Believe a Goa'uld, his mortal enemy. The same as all the others he had dedicated the last five years of his life to fighting against.

“You said you were working with two others. Who are they? At least tell me their names. Show me some kind of faith on your part.”

Ba'al considered him carefully, head cocked to one side. “Very well. We can reveal the name of one of our allies. The other… We regret We are unable to give you their identity at this moment. But, the one, yes. It is someone known to you, Daniel. Regrettably their name may resurrect painful memories for you.”

Daniel’s heart caught between one beat and the next. For an eternal second he _knew_ the name was Amonet. That somehow she had survived, that _Sha’re_ had survived. That she was out there waiting for him. Why else was Ba'al searching his mind for her memories? He felt the blood drain from his face. His knees wobbled and he sat down hard on the cushions scattered on the floor by the table. Ba'al was staring at him, saying something he couldn’t hear over the pounding of his pulse in his ears. That little voice of reason that always poked its head up at inconvenient times was telling him it couldn’t be; he’d held her still body in his arms, seen Jack carry her back through the Stargate even as Teal'c carried him, buried her in the cold sands of home. But the spark he’d thought extinguished forever reignited in an illogical flicker of hope. His starving lungs pulled in a gasp of air and Ba'al’s voice penetrated the fog in his brain.

“Are you well, Daniel?”

He nodded, almost dreading the answer. “Tell me.”

Ba'al peered quizzically at him, then shrugged. “When Anubis’s plans were made known to the System Lords at the recent Summit, it appeared obvious to _all_ those present that his plans would be implemented with minimal opposition. He was not, however, aware of the… connection, shall we say, between his emissary and Ourselves. We had sought out Our old ally, and found him agreeable to renewing Our association. He finds Anubis’s plans as repugnant as We do. And it was he, in fact, who suggested you as Our envoy to the Tau’ri.” Ba'al regarded him intently, watching the expressions Daniel could feel shifting across his face as his words sank in.

“Osiris.” Was it relief he felt at knowing Amonet truly was dead, or just numb acceptance that his wife was never going to be returned to him?

“We are aware that Osiris took one of your acquaintance as his new host,” Ba'al said softly.

“Jackson’s Curse,” he whispered, memory flashing vividly on the one time he’d asked someone at the SGC on a date. Sophie Patterson in the anthro department. She’d been flattered but sweetly declined. A few days later he’d overheard her quietly telling a friend how she’d regretted turning him down. The friend had sympathised that avoiding Jackson’s Curse had been a wise thing to do. “Sarah.” He avoided Ba'al’s eye as his memories shifted to the last time he’d seen her: elegant body dressed in gold, eyes flashing, knife at his throat. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the vivid images. Ba'al’s poking around in his head must have sharpened his recall considerably.

“You and Osiris. So she— _he’s_ doublecrossing Anubis? Is Zippy the third one?” Somehow he doubted Carmen Miranda had power enough of his own to attract Ba'al to him. Ba'al’s lips twitched and confirmed that the identity of the third partner was still concealed. “You think just three of you can take on Anubis and win? And you plan to use whatever you dig out of my brain to help. Boy, are you in for a surprise.” He sighed and turned his attention to the food on the table. His head was spinning from hunger, blood-loss and exhaustion. His stomach turned at the thought of food, but survival instinct made him reach out and select a flatbread topped with tomatoes and nuts. He chewed slowly, his back to Ba'al. Silence settled over them. Daniel fixed his eyes on a few stray motes of dust drifting in the air, backlit by the light coming from the balcony. Surf pounded below in a dull roar, and behind that he caught the first rumble of thunder. He shivered, suddenly realising he was only wearing the long kilt Astarte’s women had provided. Astarte…. There was a whole new problem to face in the morning.

A light hand on his shoulder made him jump and come back from the fuzzy, drifting state he’d apparently slipped into. His hands were empty, the bread consumed mechanically.

“It is time to return to your quarters, Daniel,” said Ba'al.

Was that concern in his voice? Daniel dismissed the notion. His hands clenched and he remained sitting. “No.”

The hand patted his shoulder, then withdrew. “Yes.”

There was that same whisper of metal and the brief impression of something wrapping up around him, then he was back in his suite, sitting on the end of the bed. He barely had time to register that the balcony arches were now sealed before the familiar scent of flowers invaded his nose and he fell back, sound asleep.

 

 _He was running, through grey hallways, cold stone tunnels burrowed through the belly of the mountain. There was a visitor standing in the Gate room, dusty robes and a smile of recognition immediately swamping him in longing for desert heat and a simple life that had been cruelly ripped from him. “Danyel!” Peyah. Skaara’s friend, and his. Peyah knew all the best places to find the sweet fruit of the sunra plants. He looked so out of place amidst the concrete and guns. It could only be bad news. The dear smile of welcome turned solemn. “Kasuf and many of the people have been taken. The demons have returned….”_

 

Daniel gasped and pushed himself up out of the memory. He was back in the basement room, dim lighting gleamed through the birds tangled over his head. No, not birds – he squinted and recognised the twisted metal hood, the one that took his memories.

“The patient is awake, my Lord,” a voice floated out of the darkness.

Someone nearby shifted. An arm reached out and caressed his chest. “Sleep, my dear. All is well. Just sleep….”

“No. Stop….” The scent of flowers caught his words and drowned them in honey. He was falling and flying at the same time. Despair caught him up and took him away.

 

 _…the storeroom was silent, faint sounds of Jaffa passing made him freeze, time and again. He never heard the one who opened the door. He did hear the gasp as alternate-Teal'c was discovered, so very dead. The man’s eyes met his. No hope for escape, he raised his hands, the mirror controller hidden in a bucket behind him. More warriors filled the room, rough grasps pulled him here and there, his clothing and body was searched, questions shouted in his face that he could not – would not – answer. His hands were bound, and he was shoved violently to his knees. The dead eyes of Teal'c stared accusingly at him. The blow to his cheek was pure spite – perfectly aimed to not even displace his glasses. Seven of them crowded around him, the door swung shut; the attempt to call out a warning to his team was halted by another blow and the zats and staffs hovering by his face. Footsteps approached…_

 

How long had he been here? He felt he’d been buried in this dim room, bound for days, weeks even to the machine that spun his life history out before his and other’s eyes. Some days he lay awake watching missions with his team or snatches of sweet personal moments that filled the times between discovery and heart-stopping terror.  Everything was blurring, twisting into some grotesque mess that he barely recognised. Teal'c’s face swam before him. He grabbed on to the strength his friend offered so readily, so generously. Silent resolve buoyed him and held him as he floated away from the restrained body on the reclinare, and he drifted into his past.

 _… the peace of Teal'c’s quarters grounded him. In the dim candlelight he felt more solid, more real than he had since waking to find himself alone in the cavernous pyramid. He tried to reach out to his friend, but his hand passed through solid muscle. Nothing to do but sing, now. Row, row, row your boat…_

 

Days were passing without notice. Life was a blurred mix of nights filled with dreams and days spent wandering the streets of Tsydon, trying his best to find a way out of the city or a person who would help him. Yet, always he ended up coming face-to-face with Astarte. At every unexpected turn she was there, waiting for him in whatever obscure alley, field or shop that he could find. Then she was unshakeable, clinging to him every moment, much to the delight of the city folk. Inevitably they would find their way back to her temple. Try as he might to distract her with questions about the people’s worship of her, the temples, the stories she had accumulated over thousands of years as goddess – always her words would be only of love, for Eshmun, for Ba'al, for Daniel, and as time moved inexorably on, her ability to distinguish between the three of them was deteriorating noticeably. He would fend off her amorous touches, beg for another tale, and search desperately for a back way out of the temple or a path that would lead up and over the hill toward the spaceport. Each day she clung just that little bit closer, longer and when Ba'al appeared, as he did as surely as the sun set, Daniel was beginning to experience a warped sense of relief. Even the certain promise of a nightlong interrogation was looking to be safer than spending too much time in the grip of a goddess on the brink of sanity.

Ba'al however, was becoming less hospitable. Daniel was beginning to suspect that the Goa'uld had expected to find what he was looking for with relative ease. Yet, night after night they went through the elaborate charade of concern and understanding, choked down over a dinner of ashes, followed by a nightcap of drug-filled air. They had passed on from the memories of Sha’re’s death, bringing truth to Ba'al’s claim of disinterest over the fate of Shifu or any lingering intelligence Daniel may hold from Amonet.

 

 _… the white room. He was back in the white room. He tried and tried but always he ended up back in the white room, surrounded by footsteps. Coming closer… just out of sight… coming… She smiled. Her fingers raked through his hair, tangling, pulling painfully, demanding answers he couldn’t remember giving. His skin was warm now, wrapped in something soft, not naked and cold. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. Heard the first snip. Felt the first lock fall past his fingers to the floor…_

 

Finally – somehow – the path of his memories resembled the timeline in which the events had occurred. Ba'al laughed himself into a coughing fit over the ignominious death of Seth, an event he had celebrated the following day with a lavish lunch attended by all the Court and Astarte. Even the priests from the temples had been invited. The good mood had lasted several days, but slowly impatience rose and Ba'al’s temper slid to dangerous levels. Several times in the early mornings as he escaped the citadel or late in the evening when he was dragged back, Daniel was witness to whispered conversations between the Goa'uld and his underlings, the results of which clearly displeased Ba'al.

There were comings and goings too: Jaffa and Goa'uld were escorted by the Rephaim to the wing of the citadel where Ba'al conducted his business. One evening, as another summer storm raged overhead, rain pounding the force shields across the open windows, Elsh interrupted their dinner. Bowing apologetically, he quietly delivered his news to Ba'al and managed to sidle out of reach when Ba'al’s reaction sent the heavy serving dish through the air.

“He will not wait?”

“Forgive, my Lord, he will not. He was insistent. The business must be concluded or he will take everything and, well, he insinuated that if you are not present, the name of Ba'al will become a mockery to all Goa'uld.”

Daniel admired the way Elsh got himself out of reach as Ba'al’s eyes flashed – something he couldn’t remember seeing once yet on Tsydon. Ba'al pulled himself together and smiled apologetically at Daniel. He stared thoughtfully at him for several minutes, then sighed.

“Very well. Inform His Exalted Lordship that We shall fulfil our obligations. We will arrive in three days.”

Elsh bowed so deeply his hair brushed the floor, and backed out of the room with aplomb.

“Going somewhere?” Daniel asked mildly, more than a little curious to see the Goa'uld so unsettled.

“Alas, the duties of a System Lord are unrelenting. We must see to Our obligations with Lord Yu and he will not be delayed. We had hoped that Our business with Our honoured guest would have been concluded by now, but as it is not….” The speculative frown on Ba'al’s face did nothing to make Daniel feel easy.

“Yu, huh? Well, have a nice trip. I’m sure I’ll still be here when you get back.” With Ba'al out of the way for a few days perhaps he’d have a better chance of getting the hell out of here. A niggling voice inside added that a respite from Ba'al’s machine could only be good. He wasn’t going to admit to himself just how concerned he was that the constant messing with his head was going to see him back in that white room – permanently.

“I’m sure,” echoed Ba'al. “ _We_ are certain that Our Lady Astarte will be overjoyed to take you into Her care for the days – and nights – that We are absent.”

He couldn’t help it. His face paled at the thought. The last few days, it was all he could do to fend off her blatant attempts to get him into her bed. If he had to stay in the temple day and night… Hathor’s face flashed in front of his eyes and his stomach roiled. He cursed Ba'al’s machine and its ability to dig out every single disgusting and hurtful memory he had, and he dreaded Ba'al’s reaction when – _if_ – he got a ringside seat to the way Hathor had used him. His discomfort was obvious, and Ba'al smirked at him. Daniel scowled. “Give my regards to old Yu, won’t you? Oh, ask him how the stomach is now. Osiris got him pretty good with that knife.”

Ba'al tipped his head back and laughed, long and heartily. “Ah, yes. Osiris has told Us of your deception at the Summit. We are quite impressed that you nearly managed to make off with him and his host. We believe he has not shared that information with Lord Yu. However, just to be… safe, We think it will be best to conceal your identity from him.”

“Wha… what? You’re taking me to see Yu?” Daniel blanched, thoughts zipping through his head at speed. Even if Osiris had not told Yu about his servant’s real identity, he would still surely be recognised from the peace treaty talks on Earth a couple of years ago. Although, he had yelled out, ‘Sarah, it’s me – Daniel!’ in Yu’s presence. It wouldn’t take much to piece things together. “He’ll kill me.”

“We shall not permit that.” Ba'al’s smugness filled the entire dining room.

“But… look, just leave me here. I’ll be fine. You can do your business and then come back,” he offered lamely. _And then you can resume rummaging in my head. Great._

Ba'al steepled his fingers together and gave it some thought, his eyes keenly tracking the emotions Daniel could feel flitting across his face. “No. We do not believe it to be in Our best interests to leave you here unchaperoned. Our Love has many virtues but self-denial is not one of them. We tremble with trepidation at the thought of you left here, unprotected.” He smiled beatifically, rose and headed for the door, bellowing for Elsh and Kosharta as he went.

Daniel watched him go, his spirits sinking rapidly. “Caught between the devil and the devil… and the devil. Super.”

 

Astarte was not happy. Daniel got that from the wailing, hair-pulling, flesh-rending full-out hissy fit she was pitching in Ba'al’s throne room. He hung back in the shadows wondering – if he made a break for the balcony – whether he could swim to shore without being ground up on the rocks around the citadel. It took quite some time for Ba'al to calm his queen and even then it was only when he leaned in and whispered at length in her ear. Daniel really didn’t like the way her eyes darted to him and unblinkingly pinned him. Nor did he like the slow, longing smile that spread across her face – kind of like a lioness that’s been promised a particularly juicy deer to play with.

Mollified, Astarte subsided into complacency, allowed Ba'al to fuss over her and kiss her farewell. She took her leave. Her attendants fell into line behind her, and she swept up the centre of the throne room, the moonlight that streaked in through the stained glass windows painting her in a kaleidoscope of colour. Daniel pressed back against a pillar bearing a statue above his head: probably Ba'al in one of his glorious conquest poses. He wondered if she possessed a dress that actually covered both breasts at the same time, but it didn’t seem likely. __

_Stop being such a guy._ He chided himself in a voice that sounded eerily like Sam’s, and yanked his gaze off the Goa'uld’s bare, jiggling breast. _Oh, jeez, here we go._

Astarte drifted to a halt a good three inches away from him. She ran her hand up his neck, cupped his cheek and pulled his face to hers. He stubbornly kept his mouth closed but that didn’t deter the open wet kisses she plastered over him.

“We bid farewell to Our love,” she murmured in his ear. “May your journey be safe from evil and your return to Our side as swift as the swallows on the morning breeze.” She sealed the sentiment with more kisses.

He pulled back with an effort and babbled, “Yep, greatthanksbye!”

She left him with a smile horribly reminiscent of the one Osiris had given him in Yu’s quarters on the space station. He shuddered, and as he watched her depart he began to seriously consider throwing himself on Yu’s mercy. _Oh, boy._

 

The night before their departure, as servants scuttled to and fro all over the citadel on panicked errands, and Consorts and minor Goa'uld bustled past with a distracted air, Daniel was escorted back to his rooms by his guard. As had become the norm he paused before the open doorway, dreading the last step that would take him within range of the drug filled air. The last few nights his dreams and memories had become increasingly tangled, losing their meaning and serving to undermine his confidence in his own sanity. He scowled, annoyed with himself for letting his fear show. A quick glance at Tannin, in charge of his guard tonight, and he was surprised by the sympathetic expression on her face. Obviously they knew – to some degree – what went on during the night. He blushed, feeling humiliated at allowing himself to be used in this way. Tannin gave him an encouraging nod. Daniel lunged into the room, not wanting anyone’s sympathy anymore. Whatever the guard may feel about his situation, they would never be in a situation to – or possibly even care to – help him.

Lined up by the door were two polished wooden trunks, prettily embellished with marquetry. He opened the first and found a dazzlingly collection of clothing, none of which he’d previously worn. _Looks like I’ll get to make an impression on old Yu._ Letting the lid drop with a thud, he sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. For an age he stared blankly at the flames flickering behind coloured glass lanterns that hung over the darkened windows before he realised he wasn’t falling asleep. _That’s odd._ Daniel straightened and walked cautiously around the room, testing the air. Nothing. The air was clean, and the absence of the drug made him more nervous than its presence had.

He sat down. Then got up again. Wandered into the bathing room and back out. Went to change out of the sarong he’d worn all day, then retied it. Sat on the bed, then nearly leapt up off it again, as if his presence on its silky covers could trigger the drug. Nothing. He walked back to the bathing room, peed, washed, cleaned his teeth, and stared at his face for way too long in the mirror. Even more unsettled by the shadows under his eyes and the way his cheekbones seemed more prominent than usual, he turned away and began a restless prowl around his suite. He was tired; the more he paced the more he wanted to sink down into the bed and sleep, but his body wouldn’t let him – as if the act of sleep was a sign to Ba'al that he was giving in, just accepting whatever the Goa'uld wanted to do with him. His mind spun with half-remembered images of Hathor, Seth, missions mixed wrongly together and half-baked imaginings of what Yu would do to him if Ba'al chose to let slip his identity.

“Argh! Stop, just stop….” He was driving himself crazy. He stumbled to a halt by the force-shielded windows, more than a little dizzy from circling in one direction. “Just stop,” he whispered tiredly.

A knock at the door suspended his thoughts from falling down that black well of despair. “What? Who is it?”

He stared at the main doors and nearly jumped out of his skin when a hidden door opened in the wall. _That’s where they take me each night_. “Who are you?” he growled when two men walked meekly into the room and politely bowed to him.

“Adon. We are servants of our Lord. We bid you come with us,” one said. His voice was familiar – these were the two who carted his un- or semi-conscious body down to the interrogation room each night.

“Why?”

They shared a perplexed look. “Our Lord requires your presence, Adon,” the other replied in a tone reserved for the slow-witted.

“Why am I still awake?”

“That is not for us to say, Adon. We are charged to escort you, that is all we know.”

“And if I refuse to go?”

They both smiled somewhat patronisingly. “We will escort you to our Lord, Adon.”

Daniel glared at them, his nerves churning with uncertainty. Was this just a ploy of Ba'al’s to make Daniel complicit in his own torture or was something else afoot? The routine of druggings was gone and he felt adrift without it. He stubbornly stayed where he was until the two moved to his sides, gently but firmly took hold of his arms and led him into the hidden passageway.

It had always seemed like such a long distance, lying on his back, spaced out on the drugs, counting the lighting fixtures as they passed overhead. In reality it was only fifty feet to the transporter, then barely any distance to the door of The Room. He hung back against their grip but they got him into that dimly lit, wood-panelled room without too much loss of dignity. They let him go and he lost track of them then, his attention captured by the reclinare, gleaming underneath the filigree hood. His stomach clenched and he backed away before he realised he was moving. A tall, warm body impeded his progress and he spun, knowing of course that it would be _him_.

“What’s going on?” he blurted, cursing his nerves. “Thought you had to have me drugged before you could steal my memories.”

Ba'al’s small smile told him he wasn’t fooled by the bravado. “Alas, Daniel, We have a problem.”

“Really? Can’t say I care, actually.”

“Ah, but you should care, Daniel. Our problem is your problem. Our scientists,” he gestured at a woman and man Daniel hadn’t even seen, standing behind a bank of control terminals. “Our scientists advise Us that there are significant signs of scarring along your neural pathways. This scarring is preventing the reclinare from achieving an efficient scan of the memories we seek. Now, what can you tell Us about this scarring?”

Ba'al’s words faded into the background as Daniel fixed on that word – scarring. His brain, _his brain_ , was scarred. Oh, god. Hardly a surprise really, the number of times he’d been zapped with one thing or the other. If it wasn’t Machello’s little buddies, it was Nem rooting through his brain. He kept backing away from Ba'al, shaking his head in denial, inwardly trying not to curl into a corner and start gibbering about footsteps all over again.

“Daniel!” Ba'al had him by the arms and shook him. He came back to the present with an only slightly hysterical giggle.

“Guess you’ve got damaged goods, Ba'al. I’d ask for a refund if I were you.”

“What do you mean?” Was it his imagination, or did Ba'al actually sound sympathetic?

Another little titter escaped him as he looked at Ba'al’s handsome face. “You think you’re the only one to mess with my head? Boy, where have you been? It’s an occupational hazard for galactic explorers, didn’t you know?”

“Tell Us, Daniel. Please.”

Daniel yanked his arm out of Ba'al’s grip and began to pace again, walking around the hated chair with carefully measured steps. “Let’s see… where to begin. Well, there was Nem, drilling through my head in search of his wife; Machello’s little buggers which sent me completely insane – wouldn’t recommend that, you know; the Gamekeeper who kept us remembering just the best years of our lives, over and over and over; Hathor telling us we’d been asleep for decades – then rooting through my memories like she was at the library. So did the Tok’ra for that matter. Oh, of course Osiris tried to fry my brain with that hand thingy – and that’s a joy that just never gets better no matter how many times you do it. I had my mind and entire body duplicated, my personality sucked into an old guy’s body, got tortured with the Blood of Sokar, and had a little man in my head for a while. He was kind of fun, really, specially the singing part. Got brainwashed and imprinted with a whole new personality, was addicted to a Goa'uld pleasure palace, and had an ascended being implant a possible future where I could have given one of your lot a run for their money in the Evil Overlord category. I don’t know… what do you think Ba'al? Any of that likely to make an impact on a guy’s brain? Of course let’s not forget the multiple hits with a zat, numerous other alien things that make you forget where you live at the end of the day. And I’ve been nishta’ed by some of the best. Take your pick.” He jerked to a halt two feet in front of Ba'al’s astonished face, spread his legs so his knees wouldn’t buckle, and wrapped his arms around his chest to hide the shaking in his hands.

“My. You have led a busy life, Daniel.”

 _Careful, Dannyboy. Get a hold of yourself. Shouldn’t have said all that. Don’t show weakness, Jack always says. Be tough, be dumb, but don’t be vulnerable or they’ll be on you like wolves._

Shuffling behind him brought his attention back to Ba'al. He held his place, mentally tracking Ba'al as he moved to the console and conversed with the technicians.

The shaking in his hands wasn’t subsiding, rather it was spreading to his knees and insides – fine tremors threatening to undo him completely. _Maybe I’m already… nuts. Just didn’t realise._

Warm fingers touched his shoulder and he flinched away, spun around, hands arcing out in attack, a hair’s breadth from striking Ba'al’s eyes before steely hands wrapped around his wrists. Ba'al forced Daniel’s arms behind his back, pushed up until his wrists were between his shoulder blades.

“Let go of me,” Daniel snarled.

Ba'al still had a look of curiosity on his face. Silent, he studied Daniel for a few moments, then leant into him, their chests pressed together. Ba'al continued to press Daniel backwards.

“Get off me, dammit.” Daniel tried to struggle but being bent back without the use of his arms, it was impossible to gain any kind of leverage. Or breathe. He sucked in a gasp as Ba'al twisted and let him drop. Daniel fell – and then was _pulled_. The gravity field of the reclinare grabbed him and he was plastered to it, hands scrabbling uselessly, leaving him to glare up at Ba'al. Two shadowy figures appeared on either side and had the restraints fastened before he could protest. The chair dipped and he floated up to meet the descending metal hood. It eased into position over his face.

Silence gathered thickly around him. Daniel’s breathing echoed off the hood and the sound only increased his fear. He wasn’t drugged this time and he knew Ba'al intended to scan him fully awake. _This is going to hurt.  Like Nem…._

“Ba'al.” _Crap, beg if you have to_. “Please. Not like this.” His gut constricted and his chest felt tight. “At least put me under.” The gravity field pressed him tight, not allowing even his hands to clench.

Silence.

Ba'al walked slowly around the reclinare, appearing and disappearing in Daniel’s vision like a slow-motion strobe. He concentrated on his breathing, trying to control the fear that was starting to creep out of the shadows of his mind. Fear of Ba'al’s intentions, fear of what damage his brain had suffered over the past few years, fear of being unable to resist or fight back; they all joined forces and threatened to destroy what composure he still clung to.

“Show me the scans.” Ba'al halted behind Daniel. The big screen used previously to display Daniel’s memories flickered to life with a 3D image of a brain.

 _Hello._

The image zoomed in past organic bits he didn’t want to know the name of, to focus on hair-thin strands of… something. He bit back the questions that automatically rose.

“Here, my Lord. Here and along here.” The technician used a light pointer to indicate the barely visible build-up of pink layered over the strands. “The pattern of scarring indicates it occurred from multiple applications.”

 _Short and sweet. Sam could learn a thing or two from her._ Daniel dragged his attention back. _Multiple applications? What the hell?_

“A weapon of some kind?” Ba'al asked quietly.

“No, my Lord. There is no indication of damage. Rather, this looks like a preventative or healing application.”

 _Healing? Multiple…. Oh, god, no. Shit, shit, shit._ Daniel knew exactly what had caused this scarring. Just as he had always known it would come back one day and bite him in the ass.

“Would this be the result of one of your exploits, Daniel?”

“Nope. No idea, no clue, not a one….”

Despite his best efforts to stay calm, Daniel could feel his control weakening. He bit his tongue to halt any further babblings.

“Can We continue?” Ba'al asked the technician.

“No, my Lord. The patterns of scarring are quite intricate and are blocking any further coherent retrieval. They will have to be removed for us to return to our search.”

 _Removed?_ “No,” Daniel ground out. His muscles flexed and strained against the gravity chair’s grip.

Ba'al’s hand settled gently over his heart, patting his bare skin in a show of comfort. “Be at ease, Daniel. Our methods of healing are quite painless, We assure you.” He left his hand on Daniel’s chest, brushed over his skin as if petting a fractious animal.

A horrible, embarrassing gurgle escaped his lips as Daniel found his other fears completely swamped by the terror riding at the front of a wave of desperate craving. _Can’t face that again, not alone, not here in front of him. Someone help me…._ His senses swam. Ba'al’s voice receded down a tunnel of confusion, giving instructions for closer scans, and Daniel fell eagerly into darkness.

 

 

Next morning the citadel was in a carefully controlled uproar. Daniel had been dragged out of bed and into the bath before he’d really woken, and pulled under the dryers just as rapidly. He’d been on the verge of nodding off when a firm hand wrapped around his arm and led him back to the suite.

He peered at the blur in front of him, finally recognising Kosharta. She was staring at him expectantly. “What?” he mumbled.

“Dress! You must dress, boy. Now.”

“Oh. Uh….” Her blurry outline was making his eyes hurt. He fumbled on the side table, snagged his glasses and pushed them on. “Huh. You’re grumpy this morning.”

She gaped at him in exasperation. “You consider that as being dressed? Our Lord will not be amused. Here.” She started pulling clothes onto his limbs and he let her, too befuddled to wonder about anything. All too quickly, he was ready, dressed in rich purple pants and vest, the damask material moulded tight to his body. Boots in the same colour finished the ensemble off.

Kosharta handed Daniel a tumbler of sweet fruit juice, which he swallowed down gratefully. His head cleared, leaving room to remember the previous night’s events – and today’s agenda. The clothing trunks were gone. They were off to see Lord Yu. Swell.

The doors to his suite stood open, Kosharta impatiently glaring at him. He squared his shoulders and walked out. His guard immediately surrounded him and escorted him through the busy halls, down the sweeping staircase to the grand entrance hall. The entire Court milled around, chattering excitedly. When they saw Daniel they flocked to him.

“Adon! You are travelling with our Lord!” Arsay squealed, her eyes shining with envy.

“It is such an honour to accompany our Lord off-world,” said Nikkal.

“Hardly any of us have been off-world,” added Pidray.

“Apart from Prize and Mavet,” Yarikh said.

“Anath went with our Lord and Lady to the Radmanu fest, do you not remember?” Tallay chimed in. “They brought us such glorious gifts!”

“Oh, Adon, will you bring us gifts?” Pidray was bouncing with excitement.

“You must take note of everything and tell us when you return.” Helel hugged his younger Companion and smiled at Daniel.

“Yes – we have to know what Lord Yu’s courtiers are wearing!”

“And how they style their hair!”

“And what the Palace is like!”

“What they eat – and their music! You must tell us everything, Adon!”

A deep voice laughed, breaking through the chatter. The Court pulled back from Daniel, allowing Ba'al to stride into their midst, bestowing lavish farewell kisses on each Concubine and Courtesan. Daniel watched him murmur a little something with each kiss, leaving his lovers smiling shyly and glowing with joy from the private words.

Done, he stood before Daniel, the familiar smirk on his face. “We must depart, dear Daniel.” He took Daniel’s shoulder and steered him away towards a large round alcove halfway down the grand hall.

With Daniel in position at his side, Ba'al waved gaily at his family. Daniel followed suite with a brief wave and a barely heard “Bye”. The Court waved hands and scarves, and was lost to sight as a set of transport rings shot down and swept Daniel and his host away.

The rings deposited them amid the unmistakable walls of a Goa'uld Ha’tak ship. Lacking only the open-flame braziers of Apophis’s ships, this one seemed the same as all the others Daniel had found himself on over the years. Guards snapped to attention – not the legging-clad Rephaim of the citadel’s guard – these were clearly Jaffa, all wearing the traditional armour, and bearing staffs and zats. Ba'al’s sunny disposition disappeared with the receding rings. He ignored the saluting guards, snapped a quick order to one who stepped forward, and without a glance at Daniel, marched out of the room.

The Jaffa scowled at Daniel. “You will come. This way.” He spun on his heel and stomped out of the room.

Daniel blinked. The sudden absence of the respectful courtesy he’d been shown on Tsydon was disconcerting. He slowly trailed after the Jaffa, others falling in closely around him. They traversed corridor after corridor, and the shadowed gold hieroglyph-covered walls helped to shift Daniel’s whole mindset – away from bright, friendly Tsydon where deception lurked behind a friendly smile – to one that was much more familiar: the cold, alien environment of the Goa'uld, armour and weapons making it plain who the enemy was. Disturbingly, it was somehow comforting.

He was taken to a small room and left there alone. After frowning at the closed door he tried the bent snake symbol on the wall: locked. A few minutes poking along the walls revealed a small toilet and shower room. Beside the bed in the room there was nothing else.

He plopped down on the bed.

Stared at the door.

Stared at the floor.

Stared at the walls.

“I’ll just wait here, then, shall I?”

In response the universe juddered sideways and sent him sprawling on the bed. _That_ was all too familiar – entering hyperspace. Daniel rolled onto his back and glared at the ceiling.

“Okay.”

 

 

He slept, for a long time judging by the dryness in his mouth when he woke. Sometime during his sleep someone had entered and set up a small table with a tray of food and a pitcher of water on it. Daniel drained half the water in one go, then lifted the covered dish lid. A ‘stew’ of some kind steamed pleasantly inside. His stomach growled, so he tucked in. The hot meal and accompanying flat bread vanished in short order.

A visit to the facilities, then he was back in the room, contemplating his options. Paced the room. Ran through some exercises so his body was honed and ready for what was to come. Worried about what Ba'al planned for him. Worried about what might happen if Yu discovered his identity. Worried about how his team was coping without him – were they still looking for him or were they back on the mission roster, going off-world without him? Who was taking care of his fish? He suddenly remembered Merrie Stern, the woman who had found some of his father’s journals amongst her grandfather’s estate. He’d promised to collect the journals from her on the way home from New York.

“Damn.”

Something inside his chest gave a pang at the thought of reading his father’s words, discovering a part of his parents’ lives he’d not previously known.

“Don’t go there,” he muttered to himself.

The heavy gold walls seemed to lean in, enclosing him in a cocoon and shutting him away from the life he yearned to return to.

Daniel shut his eyes, crawled back under the covers and sought solace in sleep.

 

 

For two days, give or take, Daniel’s life narrowed to sleeping, eating, stretches and exercises, and fruitless and annoying speculation.

Then, on one awakening Elsh was there, standing by the bed with that odd look of distrustful respect on his face that he reserved for Daniel.

“Hello.”

Elsh nodded. “I am to assist you, Daniel. Our Lord’s fleet will arrive at His destination in an hour.”

“Fleet?” Daniel blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

“Of course. You do not think Lord Ba'al would enter the territory of another System Lord without the support of his fleet?” Elsh flung the bed covers back before Daniel could muster a reply. “Why did you sleep in your clothes? Never mind. You must wash while I lay out the clothing Lord Ba'al wishes you to wear.” He steered Daniel to the shower and set it running, leaving Daniel to slowly peel off his rumpled pants.

“Uh, speaking of his lordship, where is Ba'al? And why have I been locked up here in solitary like this?” He stepped under the warm rain of water and sighed with pleasure.

“It is not for the likes of me to question anything our Lord does,” Elsh called from the bedroom. His tone implied it wasn’t Daniel’s place to question Ba'al either.

“Right.” Daniel scrubbed scented gel into his hair and ducked under the water. He stayed there until it abruptly cut off and was replaced by warm air blowing him dry. He cracked open one eye and caught a glimpse of Elsh disappearing into the room beyond.

Finally dry, he returned to the bedroom. A garment of indeterminate description lay on the bed, so darkly purple it was closer to black. “What’s that?”

“It is what our Lord wishes you to wear,” Elsh replied. “But first I will fasten this.” He knelt in front of Daniel and swiftly wrapped a cold metal chain around his left calf. A familiar diamond tinkle filled the air.

“Uh, no, hang on a minute. I’m not wearing that.” Daniel cringed at the thought of chiming his way through Yu’s palace with Astarte’s present.

“Our Lord wishes you to, Daniel,” Elsh repeated. He stood, picked up the garment, helped Daniel into it, and fastened the low waistband, which sat just above his hips.

“Uh, that’s it?” Daniel frowned, looking down at himself. Arms bare, most of his chest bare in a sweeping low v-neck that gaped below his bellybutton, a graduated kilt that fell in layers to his feet and was split from mid-thigh to the floor.

“No, there is one more piece.” Elsh reached up and draped a head cloth over his hair, settling it in place with a band of shimmering drop diamonds over his brow. The diamonds hung down over his eyes in a glittering curtain. Elsh drew an end of the cloth over Daniel’s mouth and nose, and secured it to the other side, creating a veil over most of his face and neck.

Daniel felt his anxiety return full-force. “This is going to fool Yu? No, you know what? Just tell Ba'al I’ll wait here till he’s done.”

Elsh gave him a strange look and turned his back on Daniel. “Is the Adon dressed as you wish, my Lord?”

“What?” Daniel looked up from the shimmering material draped over his body, and started when a shadow detached from the corner by the door.

Ba'al prowled into the light and stood gazing at Daniel, running his gaze up and down the robed body. “Perfect. We have just a couple more adornments for Our guest.”

“How long have you been standing there?” Daniel scowled at Ba'al. “You might give a person some privacy, you know.”

Ba'al’s eyes twinkled with amusement, then sobered. He nodded to Elsh who produced two thin silver bands and proceeded to secure them around Daniel’s wrists.

“Ba'al, I don’t think me going to Yu’s palace is such a great idea. He’s gonna recognise me. I should stay here – not get in the way.”

“Nonsense. We can hardly present Ourselves at Yu’s Court with an incomplete retinue. He will mock Us. You would not want that now, would you, Daniel?”

“Mock? No. Well… no. I guess. I just….”

“Here. We gift Our Companion with Our symbol. Ba'al stepped close and attached two gold chains to either side of the material running down Daniel’s chest. Between them, hanging over his heart, lay a gold filigree working of Ba'al’s horned emblem.

Daniel felt a cold dread sweep over him. “Why?”

“This simple emblem symbolises Our ownership of you – an unbranded human.”

“Ah, excuse me? Ownership?” Daniel baulked at the word.

“All courtiers, servants, warriors, must have their allegiance marked plainly when in company of other System lords, otherwise the unmarked are free to be taken by whomever sees them. Did you not wonder why our Jaffa are thus branded?”

Daniel realised with a shock that he’d never explored the full meaning of the brands with Teal’c.  He looked at Elsh and saw he too wore Ba'al’s emblem – less intricate than his own but effective none the less. “Look… no. I’m sorry, but I’m not parading round Yu’s palace with your… brand on me.” His thoughts were tangling over his lack of observation and dread at the coming day’s events.

“I’m not going,” he said flatly, backing away from Ba'al as much as the small room would allow.

Ba'al sighed. He cocked his head to one side and studied Daniel for some time. He advanced slowly, stopping a mere inch away. They were the same height – Daniel and Ba'al’s host. Their eyes met in challenge and as Daniel’s body prepared for a fight, Ba'al smiled and sighed again. Only this time the warm breath that escaped his lips was tinged in pink and it smelled… _god, no_ … it smelled like _her_.

“N—mmph…” Daniel jerked his head to one side, but with cobra-like speed Ba'al’s hands darted up and clamped onto his face, holding him still as the soul-stealing Nishta flooded into his body.

Daniel screwed his face up and tried not to breathe but of course that didn’t last long, and it made no difference. The drug seeped into his skin. He struggled, tried to force Ba'al’s hands away, to wriggle out of his grip, and run as far and fast as he could to hide in a dark corner. But Ba'al held him fast, leaning his body into Daniel, pressing him against the patterned wall so hard he could feel the symbols imprinting into his back. Another dose, then another….

His fingers felt fat and uncoordinated. He lost his grip on Ba'al’s sleeve and sagged back. Ba'al smirked at him – an expression Daniel now hated with a passion. He glared at the Goa'uld, sent every ounce of hate and fury that his hijacked body could not express. God. He _hated_ this: the way his thoughts whirled but his body refused to respond to his commands; the way his skin tingled in anticipation of a word, a look, a touch from the one who held him in thrall; the way his body would move only at the command of his captor.

But he could fight this, _had_ fought it to a degree. He’d kept Hathor at bay for some time… until she’d dosed him so thoroughly he could only lay pliant and responsive under her hands. He shuddered and blurted out, “Not supposed… immune now….” His forehead creased as he remembered Hathor’s taunts, standing on the mocked-up Gate ramp. “Immune,” he ground out in defiance of the obvious.

Ba'al’s eyebrows rose and he moved back a step. “Immune? To the breath of the Gods?” He laughed. “Why, Daniel, whoever told you that? Do you really think we would have developed the Breath of the Gods if a favoured plaything became immune after one exposure? You of all people should realise We are nothing if not opportunistic. We would never fail to take advantage of a substance that gives Us all such… pleasure.”

Daniel shook his head, the words jamming in his throat. There was something else but it was too much to sort through at the moment. Ba'al extended a hand, accepted something from Elsh and stepped close once more. Daniel could barely restrain himself from leaning into his touch, had to fight the drug’s impulses fiercely as Ba'al wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. He shuddered at the touch: yearning – that hateful, uncontrolled yearning was back, swamping his senses. He lost track of what Ba'al was doing until cold metal claws pressed against his neck. He tried to pull back but it was too late, the silencer was in place and he was mute once again.

Ba'al brushed off Daniel’s furious glare. “Come, Daniel, let us pay our… respects to Lord Yu.” He strode to the door. The Nishta in Daniel’s blood burned with such intensity that he could no more halt his stumbling steps in Ba'al’s wake than he could temper the anxiety that rose the instant Ba'al left him. He had to be close to him, by his side, or as near as possible to quell the yearning to bearable levels. Ba'al swept through the door, Daniel only two inches off his left shoulder.

Dimly, he registered the Jaffa waiting for them, but he instantly forgot them as Ba'al captured his complete attention. He stayed focused on the back of Ba'al’s head, sometimes speeding up a little to catch the profile of this man who possessed his body more thoroughly than Daniel himself. Every gesture, every change in expression on Ba'al’s face had Daniel captivated and left him longing for a word, a smile, a touch. And deep inside, the real Daniel raged impotently.

Ice cold against the soles of his feet helped pull him out of the fog a little. He blinked, wondering how they had come to be in a hangar, moving toward an Al’kesh. Daniel slowed, pulling back from Ba'al. He struggled to remember what was happening. Yu. They were going to see Yu. But why were his feet cold? He looked down, saw bare toes peeking out from the long kilt he wore.

 _Daniel? Shoes._

A voice sounded in his head – one he should recognise. A hand touched his arm and he looked up into Ba'al’s face. Pleasure flooded through him. _He touched me._ Contentment filled his soul and he followed his master. He sat where he was told, barely registering the many others around him as his master sat at his side. The God’s breath flooded into his heart and he sighed with happiness. He shifted in his seat so that he could see his master clearly. Somewhere off in the distance a voice was yelling at him but the master lifted his hand to his lips and kissed it, silencing that annoying voice for good.

 

 

The day passed in a blur of colour, interspersed with moments of clarity that burned into Daniel’s brain and stayed, repeating on endless loops when the fog closed in yet again: leaving the Al’kesh and seeing a city framed by mountains, dominated by the enormous gabled roof of Yu’s palace; catching Yu staring at him as he sat at Ba'al’s feet surrounded by Jaffa; staring at a black stoneware teapot, identical to – was it the same one? – he had served Yu with when he’d first taken the place of his Lo’taur, Jarren.

Light refracted off the diamond shield over his eyes, dazzling him with multihued shafts of brilliance. He angled his face away to stare at the grillwork decorating the far wall. He sighed and shifted his butt on the cushion. His master continued his discussion with Lord Yu, meticulously dividing the spoils from their conquest, or… something. He felt the constant curious regard of Yu and the men and women of his court, crawling over his skin as if no part of him was hidden from their gaze. He ducked his head and eyed the elegant boots his master wore. If he sighed again, would his master look his way? He longed for just a glance. No. He might attract Lord Yu’s attention and that would make his master angry. His heart cringed at the thought of displeasing _him_. He looked at his feet. Wiggled his toes. They were a little dirty. He brushed them, concentrating hard on the task, so that his appearance would please his master. Like… Prize. That was it. Prize was always barefoot.

 _Like me…. We’re the same, Prize and I. Conc—_

Images flashed through his head. It was happening more and more lately, leaving him confused and distressed: red hair, flashing eyes, fingernails that scored his flesh, red mouth…. A small whine escaped his throat. He ducked his head, anxious he had disturbed his master. A gentle hand petted his hair. A stern voice spoke somewhere above him, and his master’s voice replied, laughing.

He sighed, relieved, and contemplated his toes again.

 

Finally it was over. Agreement reached, sealed and celebrated with a feast. People around him were rising. His legs were numb. A hand under his elbow pulled him to his feet. Yu was leaving, and his mast— _Ba'al,_ dammit, was issuing orders to his first prime. He stood, lost in the crush of bodies until suddenly Ba'al was there, a hand on his shoulder, turning him in the right direction. His skin shivered at the touch.

He smiled secretly under the veil and followed… his master.

 

Head bowed, he followed his master away from the audience chamber, through passageways defined by flickering bowls of flame and darkly textured draperies, the only sound the light tinkling of the bell charms adorning his leg. The long trek through the palace – surrounded by a silent, forbidding barrier of Jaffa, hearing only the tromp of footsteps and the tinkle of his chimes – helped clear his head somewhat.  They were led into a large suite of rooms. He drifted to a halt some few yards away from… Ba'al. The Jaffa faded away into adjoining rooms, securing the exits and locking down the immediate area. Within moments, savoury scents of food floated from the archway through which Elsh had disappeared.

The first prime reappeared by the curtained windows. He gestured obliquely to Ba'al and then was gone again.

Slow, silent steps took Ba'al in a circuit of the enormous room. Intricately carved furniture sat in conspiratorial groups on finely crafted rugs, dotted about the central bed like islands on a mahogany sea. The bed itself was a sunken lagoon of red; satin pillows rose in waves amongst thick downy quilts. It lay some four feet below floor level, easily big enough to sleep eight people.

“Lord Yu was most intrigued by Our companion,” Ba'al said from somewhere off to Daniel’s right. Daniel turned his head, slowly tracking the voice to its owner. “He appreciates a fine looking body and has, We are informed, a large collection of Companions and slaves.” Ba'al was eyeing him speculatively.

Daniel blinked, peering through the fog in his head. He opened his mouth, then realised he couldn’t speak, so he wrapped his arms around his stomach, concentrated on breathing and bringing his scattered thoughts back together. Damn, he felt so out of it. He was watching the events around him but comprehension of them wasn’t getting through. He felt the same as when he’d been forced to stand next to Sam and watch a Goa'uld slither into Jack: that horrible, empty remoteness where emotions were banished. _Exactly_ the same, in fact.

Goosebumps shivered over his exposed skin with the realisation. He’d been under the influence of Nishta while Jack was implanted. She… _Hathor_ had dosed him with Nishta. No wonder his first clear memory of Hathor’s base had been stumbling on a bleeding leg through the tunnels. Ba'al was pacing and talking again, but Daniel tuned him out and concentrated on the memories that were circling just out of reach. The elaborate set-up of the fake base and her scanning of their memories – it was all just a sham, a cover for her real purpose—

 _Which was what?_   She wanted information from them, yes, but why had she dosed him with Nishta? She had denied it, lied about an immunity that Ba'al said didn’t exist. His stomach roiled at the half-denied thoughts that now came at him, hard and accusing. If she’d drugged him then it was most likely she had raped him again. Self-denial certainly wasn’t a part of Hathor’s personality and he’d been as helpless as a lamb. He was shaking now, fine tremors running through his nerves. But surely she hadn’t gone to all that effort and expense just to get him in bed. No, she’d been after something else, something they knew – _he_ knew… just like… Ba'al.

Daniel swung around, and there he was. Right behind him.

“So quiet, Adon. Ease your thoughts, cherished one. Or, let us ease them for you.”

Ba'al glided to a halt in front of Daniel. Stood there, staring intently into his veiled face. Discomforted with both the heavy silence in the room and the speculation in Ba'al’s eyes, Daniel dropped his head, looking down at the fall of shimmering fabric covering his body. Soft manicured hands reached out and skimmed down his bare arms. He shivered, dreading the next, inevitable dose of the drug that would plunge him back into the fog he’d barely crawled out of. Ba'al remained standing close to his chest, and Daniel finally raised his head to look into those devious, dark eyes. For long silent seconds they stared at each other, captive and captor, parasite and human.

“Remove your clothing.”

Ba'al’s voice lay soft and gentle in Daniel’s ears, his expressionless face giving no clue to expectations. Daniel’s eyebrows curved together in puzzlement, then flattened out in refusal.

Quick as a striking snake, Ba'al’s hand curled around Daniel’s neck, the host’s mouth brushing against his ear. “We will not have servants gossiping to Lord Yu that Ba'al did not bed his catamite.”

Hot breath tickled in Daniel’s ear, adding more fuel to the flush of indignation consuming him.

“That is what Yu believes you to be – that and no more.” Mirth chuckled evilly down the side of his neck. Ba'al drew back mere inches from Daniel’s face. “It is why We dressed you as We have.”

Daniel pulled back, dread sinking in his gut. Ba’al moved with him, his mouth fastened over Daniel’s with possessive fierceness, his tongue invading and holding down Daniel’s own, allowing another powerful gust of Nishta to flood into him. With Ba'al’s cheek pressed hard against his nose, Daniel couldn’t help but swallow down the drug with a gasp of air. It gently burned into his mind, eradicating all attempts at resistance.

“We have no desire for you tonight, however beautiful you are. We are preoccupied with plans that must be settled before We leave this place. You will lay in Our bed and that is all. Your honour shall remain intact and Yu will know you for what We wish him to see.”

Sliding his hands down to Daniel’s shoulders, Ba'al turned his unresisting captive to face the side wall. A large panel ghosted open at an unseen command. Behind the panel sat a floor to ceiling mirror. Ba'al pressed close to Daniel, looking with open delight over his shoulder at their reflections and the realisation in Daniel’s eyes.

All day, the entire trip from Ba'al’s Hat’ak, through Yu’s city and palace – all the time he had been dressed like _this._ The shimmering fabric, which to Daniel’s own eyes – looking down his body – had seemed solid was, from anyone else’s perspective, entirely transparent. Every inch of his body was on display, nothing hidden, nothing private, nothing sacred. His whole presentation was that of a body for the use of its owner, and that owner was Ba'al. Appalled, Daniel was held in that wretched fogged state of powerlessness, mesmerised as Ba'al’s hands snaked over his throat, releasing the clasp on his badge of ownership. It fell to the floor with a dull clank. He slid his hands to Daniel’s shoulders, stroking betraying fabric, freeing hidden catchings, then a soft tug brought the whole thing slithering down Daniel’s body, coiling in a traitorous heap around his bare feet.

The bells about his leg chimed sweetly, announcing his humiliation to all. Daniel wrenched his eyes away from his nakedness, but there was nowhere else to look, except into the treacherous, gleeful depths of Ba'al’s eyes, staring directly at his in the mirror’s reflection. Ba'al slid a hand up under the veil, tickling through his hair and pulled his face close. “We would taste that which others have sampled.” The veil slipped loose from Daniel’s mouth and Ba'al’s lips fastened firmly over Daniel’s.

A shiver ran over Daniel’s skin, sweeping up from his legs, standing every hair on end. He felt so disconnected, adrift in the sea of Ba'al’s machinations, as if he were perched on the edge of a precipice, the merest touch enough to send him falling forever, shattering into irretrievable shards. He closed his eyes to Ba'al’s covetous smile and sank down within himself, seeking out some small part of his soul that was still _him_. Somewhere, something that would reassure him that he was still Daniel, son of Claire and Mel, husband of Sha’re, brother of Skaara, peaceful explorer and sometime inter-planetary archaeologist.

‘ _Anwylyd_.’

There she was – his rock, his lifeline in every time of despair, her warm strong arms were there to ground him, strengthen him with her love. Together they could face anything.

Unresisting, unresponsive to Ba'al’s caresses, his body moved where directed, accepted yet more of the soul stealing Nishta and was deposited in the cold embrace of the sunken bed. Gathered in his beloved’s embrace, Daniel fled the conscious world and finally found peace for a few short hours.

 

In the depths of the night, he woke to the sound of footsteps. Huddled in the enormous bed, red silk sheet wound around his body, he lay listening to Ba'al pace around the suite, muttering to himself, occasionally speaking to Elsh. Other times there were long stretches of silence, during which Daniel’s senses extended to breaking point, listening for the faintest sound, any indication that he was far away from the bed, and Daniel was for this moment, safe. He would sigh in relief, then tense up all over again, dreading each step or rustle of clothing that might be the Goa'uld, coming for him.

When he did sleep again, it in was disorienting, dream-filled episodes, memories of events he knew he had experienced jumbled with other, outlandish scenarios he could only hope had never actually happened.

 

 

He jolted awake, his mind clearer, the Nishta dispersing in his system. It must have been hours since Ba'al had last dosed him. He closed his eyes, cringing at the vision of himself in the mirror. Sam’s voice floated through his head; _“Careful, Daniel. Don’t let her breathe on you.”_ Out of context, the warning sounded ridiculous, but with hindsight….

“Sorry, Sam. He got me.” And he finally had to acknowledge that if there was no immunity to Nishta, then it was highly likely Hathor had drugged him – all of them – the moment their unconscious bodies had been delivered to her. Was that why she had left Teal'c behind? He really was immune to her breath and would have uncovered her deception immediately. And Hathor had kept them captive for weeks. She could have, and probably had, done anything she wanted to them.

Unbidden, he touched his hair, the shorter length suddenly feeling foreign and vulnerable.

 _Oh_.

The veil was gone. Outside sensations suddenly made themselves known. The soft bed he’d lain down on now felt harder, gritty, like sand. A gentle breeze touched his skin, and as his awareness expanded, he sensed a vast, open space around him. Daniel eased his eyes open, dreading what he would see. He didn’t expect fine, blue sand, tiny grains tumbling down miniature dunes a couple of inches from his nose. He sat up and stared, disbelief and confusion vying to swamp him.

Sand stretched as far as he could see. Same behind him, with the addition of a grassy bank some way off. Otherwise, there was only an achingly blue, empty sky. He turned and looked harder, certain he was still dreaming.

Sand. Sky. That was it, apart from himself and the red silk sheet still wrapped around his hips and legs.

Daniel pushed himself to his feet and swayed unsteadily, squinting against the bright light. It took a few moments to register that it was daylight hurting his eyes. Face pinched with confusion, he wandered a few yards, the fine blue sand pressing between his toes.

 _Where…?_

 _Yu. Supposed to be on Yu’s planet_. He turned, expecting to see the gabled palace behind him, but there was nothing.

Panic began to cloud his already foggy perception. His lungs picked up their tempo, inhaling the warm, clear air in dizzying gusts. Daniel kept moving in erratic, aimless steps, the momentum helping to at least keep the panic at bay. He tried to remember the previous day but could only retrieve disjointed flashes of dark halls and flickering flames, Ba'al staring at him through the mirror’s reflection. Humiliation rose, a tightening in his chest as the lust and possessiveness in Ba'al’s eyes burned anew into his soul. One hand clutched the trailing sheet around his hips as he kept walking. He stared intently at grains of powdery blue sand, desperate to scour Ba'al’s face from his mind.

He failed. His feet stumbled to a halt. Confused and aimlessly desperate, Daniel lifted his face to the sky and wished, desperately with all his heart, that he could wake up and be back at home in his own big empty bed.

 

A puff of wind brushed his cheeks, bringing faint scents of water drifting past his nose. The silence wrapped around him, cushioning him in unrealistic comfort. He remained like that long enough to lose his sense perception. The few sounds distorted and echoed, indefinable and far away. His body swayed gently in cadence with the wind’s caress. He was adrift. At peace.

Somewhere, a metallic sound broke the hush but it barely intruded on the fog in his brain. He ignored it, until a concussive blast hit his back, lifted him off his feet and threw him to land in the sand like a crumpled rag doll. Stunned, Daniel choked, dragged air back into his lungs and pushed his face out of the sand. He sat on his right hip, arms braced, numerous aches making themselves known along his left side. Something eclipsed the sun and he squinted up at the silhouette looming above him.

“We know this human.”

The voice was familiar. Daniel pressed a hand to his head to still the ringing inside it.

“Tau’ri.”

 _Call me crazy, but that sounds like Yu._

“The slave who served Us during the treaty negotiations on Earth.”

 _Watch who you’re calling slave, pal._

“Daniel Jackson.”

 _Hello, Yu._

The Goa'uld loomed over him, forcing Daniel to squint up at him. “What value are you that Ba'al would take you and keep you so close to him?” he asked curiously.

Daniel merely blinked up at him, trying to convey as much insolence as he could. As Yu’s expression darkened and his ribbon-wrapped hand came up, Daniel tipped his head back and pointed to the silencer embedded in his neck. He smiled – a hollow, mirthless smile – and shrugged.

Yu sneered at him. “You are nothing but a sleeping companion,” he decided. “Ba'al’s taste for a beautiful face and body are well known, and you are most desirable.” He ran his gaze over Daniel’s barely covered body, making him squirm. “We would even accept you into Our own bed,” he finished lecherously. Yu studied him, as if trying to decide if appropriating Daniel’s charms was worth making an enemy of Ba'al.

After some moments’ of intense and embarrassing scrutiny, Yu frowned and caught his eye. “How came you to be in Ba'al’s Court? Were you taken while interfering on one of his worlds?”

Daniel eyed him, thoughts rapidly sorting through a number of scenarios. Maybe he could stoke a little enmity between the System Lords and open a chance for escape for himself. Slowly, he shook his head, answering Yu’s question.

Surprise flitted across Yu’s face and was quickly gone. He didn’t like being corrected. “No doubt you and your people were surprised by Ba'al’s Jaffa and taken prisoner,” he declared.

Daniel shook his head again and raised his eyebrows, inviting Yu to try again.

Visibly annoyed at having to play twenty questions, Yu snapped out another possibility. “Then you were on a planet where you should not have been and were taken by Ba'al’s men. Did he set them to look for you or did you merely appeal to him when he was presented with his prisoners?”

Daniel answered the long question with a shake, a nod and a shake, although, truth be told, he could probably agree with the last question.

Yu reigned in his temper and sorted through the answers. “Ba'al set his operatives to search for you?”

Daniel gave him an encouraging smile.

“Were you taken on one of his worlds?”

Shake of the head.

“On a world under the dominion of another System Lord?” He was obviously about to get indignant if it had been one of his own worlds.

Another shake of the head.

“On a world outside the domain of the Goa'uld?”

Technically yes, but Daniel shook his head. _Nearly there._

Yu was taken aback. Daniel had to swallow a laugh at the comic puzzlement on the Goa'uld’s normally haughty face.

“On your own world?” he finally asked, disbelief thick in his voice.

Daniel gave him a big nod and a clap of his hands.

Yu’s mouth dropped in astonishment. “Earth is a protected planet. Ba'al violated the treaty just to capture you?”

Daniel nodded vigorously.

Eyes narrowing, Yu growled, “Why? What makes you unique amongst a planet full of slave stock?”

Taking umbrage at the slave comment, Daniel carelessly shrugged, knowing it would just anger Yu further. A movement far behind Yu caught his attention but he quickly returned his gaze to the Chinese pretend-God. _This should be interesting._

Yu leaned closer. He caught Daniel’s chin and tilted his head up. ”We shall know your secrets, slave,” he snarled.

Daniel lost focus as a sudden surge of vertigo swept over him. The nearer Yu got to him, the more off-balance he felt. He tried to brush Yu’s hand away but missed as the Goa'uld shifted his grip to his hair. He yanked Daniel’s head back, exposing his throat. A glint of sunlight reflected off a long sharp dagger that was suddenly descending toward the silencer on his throat.

Nausea and dizziness assailed Daniel as Yu brought his face only inches from his own. He scrabbled desperately for the knife, unbalanced and held upright only by Yu’s grip on his hair and the knee shoved forcefully into his side. Dimly wondering what was wrong with him, he clenched his eyes shut as the knifepoint nicked at his skin.

“We would prefer our property remain intact,” a voice said mildly.

Daniel cracked open an eye and stared at Yu’s eyes, glowing hotly with anger. The knife withdrew, scoring a shallow cut across his throat in the process. Yu turned, keeping his grip tight on both Daniel and the knife.

“You will tell Us why you have taken this Tau’ri from his home. You have defiled the treaty and will bring the wrath of the Asgard down upon us all. Tell Us – what possible value this catamite can be to risk such retribution.”

Ba'al stood, arms crossed nonchalantly, the familiar smirk well and truly engaged. Daniel felt a sudden surge of relief and desire at his appearance. He sucked in a strangled breath and unconsciously leaned toward Ba'al.

“Ah, this one rises above mere catamite, dear Yu. This human, this… Tau’ri, has connections and attributes unrivalled by any other Goa'uld or human. His talent for deception is unparalleled.” Ba'al smiled openly, obviously enjoying himself. “Why, he even deceived your good self, Yu.”

Yu straightened abruptly. The knife was now pointing Ba'al’s way, Daniel was happy to see.

“Lies. We have had no contact with this Tau’ri for years.”

“Mmmm, that is what you _believe_. The truth is far different. Shall we tell you?”

Ba'al settled in the sand, enjoying himself enormously as Yu found he had the tactical advantage and was powerless to use it.

“Speak.”

“Have you not wondered what became of your former Lo’taur, Jarren?”

Daniel’s eyes widened, and Yu stiffened, dragging his head back further.

“The traitor Jarren vanished, no doubt Osiris disposed of him after he had done his bidding,” Yu spat.

Ba'al’s smile grew and Daniel’s heart sank. He tried to brace himself for the backlash as Ba'al revealed the true events of his time as a spy.

“The Lo’taur Jarren never actually saw the venue for the System Lords’ Summit,” he began. “He was removed from your own palace, dear Yu, no doubt by a Tok’ra – probably one with a special affiliation to the Tau’ri.” Ba'al winked at Daniel. “The man who accompanied you to the Summit was in fact an impostor.”

“Impossible!” Yu scoffed. “We are not some mindless drone who does not recognise his own slave.”

“Yes…. We would also like to know how he achieved the deception. Never the less, We can assure you that when you arrived at the Summit, the man accompanying you as your Lo’taur was Daniel Jackson. We saw him with Our own eyes.”

Yu stiffened. He stepped back from Daniel, but didn’t release the painful grip on his hair. “You would make a mockery of Us before our brethren? You conspire with Osiris to assassinate Us to further the goals of the banished one, Anubis?” His voice darkened in tone with each accusation. He dragged Daniel sideways, forcing him to scrabble to keep his balance. The knife flashed in the morning sun. He lifted one arm in a no-doubt futile gesture of defence.

Then Ba'al was there, staying Yu’s hand. Daniel sat awkwardly in the sand, breaths shallow, heart thudding as the two Goa'uld stood over him and waged a silent battle of wills, knowing that his life would belong to the victor.

Nerve-straining minutes later, Yu lowered his knife. He pushed Daniel away from him with a snarl.

“There is much you do not know. And much to be gained from the Tau’ri’s continued life,” Ba'al said companionably.

Yu glared at him, but subsided. “Very well.”

“Excellent.” Ba'al clapped him on the shoulder and resumed his seat in the sand.

Daniel sat up from the sprawl Yu had sent him into, and crabbed sideways away from the Chinese Goa'uld, dragging the sheet with him. When he stopped and retrieved a little of his dignity by securing the sheet around his waist, an amused chuckle made him look up – to find he had placed himself next to Ba'al. Daniel glowered at him and tried vainly to suppress the Nishta’s incitement to touch him. He wrapped his arms around his legs and refused to look at either of them.

“By means we have yet to discover,” Ba'al resumed, “Daniel masqueraded as your Lo’taur. We remember him clearly. He looked most fetching in his servant’s attire. From Our enquiries, We have discovered that he was there to gain intelligence, no doubt using his famed linguistic skills. His plan was undone, however, when Osiris appeared.”

Yu growled with displeasure, but Ba'al continued on. “Our young spy then decided that he would capture Osiris and well, We are not entirely sure what he planned, only that he wanted to take Osiris with him.”

“Ridiculous,” barked Yu. “Why would a Tau’ri risk himself to capture a System Lord? He would have no hope of success. No, he was working _for_ Osiris – attempting to deceive and assassinate Us!” He took a threatening step toward Daniel, but Ba'al raised his hand.

“He would attempt such a dangerous move if he were the lover of Osiris’s host, and hoped to free her,” he offered.

“Lover?”

Daniel raised his head and stared at Ba'al. Only Osiris could have told him that, so perhaps it was true that Osiris was a member of Ba'al’s triad. Yu, on the other hand, was looking less and less likely a member.

“Lover indeed.” Ba'al met Daniel’s stare and held it, continuing to address Yu. “We believe that when Osiris discovered his plan, he in turn captured our spy and departed the Summit with him.”

Under Ba'al’s unrelenting gaze Daniel felt his confusion return and increase steadily.

“Or, there is another scenario. It is entirely possible that you are correct, my dear Yu, and Our Daniel was taken and turned into Osiris’s operative before Osiris fled Earth. He was after all, present when Osiris was released from Seth’s imprisonment. It would have been elegantly simple to take the host’s lover and turn him, leaving him behind to gather intelligence on his race and await the time when Osiris would send for him.” Speculation glinted in Ba'al’s eyes, the smirk now replaced with contemplation.

 

 

 _What? No – that’s not what happened. She escaped… after she fried my brain…._ Deep unease settled over him and he struggled to think clearly. _She couldn’t have…._ Admittedly his memories of the days in Chicago, and the frantic trips to Colorado and Egypt were very hazy but Janet had said it was due to being ribboned. _It was, wasn’t it?_ It couldn’t be anything else, surely. But then… there had been that first night, after the funeral. He’d intended to fly straight home – hadn’t even brought a change of clothes – but Sarah had been so sweet and needed his help, he’d stayed, ending up late at night, back at her apartment and eventually in her bed. _Yes, well done, Danny. You managed to sleep with another Goa'uld._ That strange memory-come-dream unleashed by Ba'al’s machine resurfaced – looking down at his sleeping body through Osiris’s eyes. _God, did she really do something to me?_ The thought of being an unwitting traitor to his team and the SGC took his breath away.

 _No! The Tok’ra were the ones who came up with the plan to infiltrate the Summit, not me. And yet, it was me they wanted. Me – the least likely to be a spy among aliens… oh, god._

Daniel refocused and found Ba'al had turned back to Yu. His fingers cramped from his white-knuckled grip on the red silk sheet. Yu was loudly declaring that Osiris had tried to kill him, and Ba'al responded with the suggestion that Osiris could have intended to kill them all, had they not agreed to his proposal.

 _The poison. Was Osiris behind that? Could he have planted the formula for the poison amongst the Tok’ra scientists? Surely not._

“Then why does this traitor still draw breath?” Yu’s anger intruded into his thoughts.

“Ah,” Ba'al’s silky voice was full of cunning. “We have taken Osiris’s spy and We are turning him to Our will. It is a lengthy and delicate process, but when we are finished We shall set him free, return him to his master, and he will do _Our_ bidding this time. We shall gain intimate intelligence about Anubis’s plans and then We shall strike and obliterate that abomination from existence.”

Daniel gaped at Ba'al, completely flummoxed by this turn of events. _Turn me into ‘your’ spy? Against Osiris? Against Anubis, whoever he is?_

Yu started to laugh, a low, evil chuckle that set Daniel’s hair on end.

“We would be proud to have the Great Lord Yu Huang Shang Ti at Our side in this, Our greatest campaign,” Ba'al finished with a flourish.

“Agreed. And We demand the privilege of taking Osiris’s head for his crimes against Us,” Yu declared fiercely, his eyes flashing hotly.

Ba'al stood and the two Goa'uld closed ranks, standing over Daniel’s hunched form. “We would expect no less, Our brother. The galaxy will be rid of this scourge and the System Lords shall be returned to the might and glory that is Our birthright!”

The two clasped arms, sealing the agreement over their human captive.

 

Daniel sank his head into his hands, and clawed his fingers through his hair in quiet desolation.

 

 


	9. The Searchers

_PREVIOUSLY IN “PICKING UP THE PIECES”…_

 

Black, soulless eyes stared up at him, a world of hate and revenge seething from a piece of paper straight into Jack’s heart. _It’s you. I should have known you’d creep back to life one day. I never expected it to be now, and I should have. This is my fault. I’ve brought you down on Daniel, God help me._

“Colonel?” Carter and Hammond were staring at him, and at the picture that was now a crumpled mess in his fist.

“I….” Where to begin, how to say that the best friend he’d ever had was in the hands of a cold-blooded killer whose last words Jack had heard were oaths of revenge on all Jack held dear?

“General Hammond.” Teal'c _interrupted_.

Three faces looked at him in surprise. Teal'c held another printed photograph, this one bearing a photo of the warehouse floor. He placed it on the desk, his faced creased with worry. “This photograph is an infrared scan of the warehouse floor where Daniel Jackson was taken. There is a set of unusual markings on the floor, some fifty feet from the ringbolts where Daniel Jackson was undoubtedly restrained. The FBI was unable to identify the object that would make such a mark.”

Carter and Hammond peered at the picture, Jack pushed himself to his feet and tried to get his brain back into gear. The markings on the floor were circular, eight to ten inches wide, eight feet in diameter. It took a few moments for the realisation to sink in. Carter was way ahead of him.

“Oh, no.”

“Indeed,” Teal'c growled, his hands clenched in fury behind his back. “These markings are made by a ring-transporter, most likely from an Al-kesh cargo vessel.”

Jack looked at him, aghast, as Teal'c delivered the denouement.

“Daniel Jackson is no longer on this world.”

 

Å

 

The others continued to discuss Teal'c’s discovery and its implications; Daniel had been taken offworld. He was lost in a galaxy full of populated planets that teemed with many people who would wish to harm him. They posited likely culprits and the selection was alarmingly large, but Jack couldn’t engage in the conversation. His thoughts spun on an endless loop of disbelief, anger and guilt.

Kolov was alive, and Daniel was suffering for the sins of Jack’s past.

“Colonel…?” Hammond’s voice, tinged with impatience, broke through his self-recrimination.

“Sir. Sorry. I….” Jack trailed off.  The need to confess his guilt, to assume responsibility for Daniel’s plight was overwhelming. So. Start at the beginning. “This is all my fault, sir. I don’t know where Daniel is now, or who took him offworld or why, but I do know who was behind it all.”

Hammond reacted to the news as he did all things bizarre and unexpected: with equanimity and an encouraging nod. “Go ahead, colonel.”

Jack laid the photo of Arseniy Chahine on Hammond’s desk with exaggerated care. He glanced at his teammates. Carter looked puzzled, as did Teal'c but behind Teal'c’s implacable façade lurked something else – a demand for accountability born of his fierce desire to protect his team and avenge the wrongs committed against Daniel. Jack allowed himself a brief vision of Teal'c methodically dismembering Kolov, then he sobered.

“Kiril Kolov is his real name. Teal'c you remember that mission from 1982 the Gamekeeper so kindly made us live through, over and over again?”

“I do, O'Neill.”

“Good men died that day. Well, we found out a year later Kolov was behind it. He’d been our contact for the mission. He’d covered his ass so well, got the rest of our team back to the base in West Berlin without a hitch, we never suspected him. Turned out he was a KGB spook. ‘Course he was long gone. I thought that was the end of it, until three years later I spotted him in Rome when I was on leave.” Jack sighed. He settled back in his chair and for a moment succumbed to memories he’d left behind a decade ago. But the truth was merciless and he wasn’t going to dodge it. Not looking at the others, he ploughed on.

“So, when I saw him in Rome, well, I had contacts of my own. We set up a nice little sting, and Kolov, cautious as he was, walked right into it.” He looked at the others, suddenly aware of time slipping through his fingers. Daniel’s time. “End result was the Russians believed they’d caught a double agent. Kolov disappeared. We heard later he’d been sentenced to life with hard labour, possibly in Nerchinsk, near the Chinese border.” He glanced at Teal'c. “It was a work camp in the middle of nowhere. Place’d put Netu to shame.”

Hammed gazed at him, neither condemnation nor compassion on his face, just understanding. “Somehow this man found his way from Siberia and ended up in the Russian Stargate program?”

Jack tipped his head in agreement. “He’s methodical, calculating, resourceful and incredibly intelligent. Probably made a break for it during the Soviet fall. Changed his name, worked his way back up and by luck or design found out about the Stargate program.”

“He was listed as missing after the Watergate incident,” Carter noted, using their nickname for the Russian debacle.

Jack opened his mouth, then frowned as a frozen face surfaced from his memories of that mission. Hard upon its heels came a welter of scenarios, all of which ended in one name. “Maybourne.”

“You believe Colonel Maybourne revealed your involvement with the SGC, O'Neill?” Teal'c asked.

He found himself nodding as the sequence of events lined up like ducks on a wall. “Chahine gets himself in the Russian program. Buddies up to Maybourne who was being less than circumspect about our operations. Finds out about me….”

“If he escaped the catastrophe on the Russian base, he could be anywhere now,” Hammond said. “I can’t see how he’d be able to organise the offworld abduction of Doctor Jackson without access to a Stargate.”

“Exactly, sir. He couldn’t. Which means he’d already left Earth before their ‘gate got stuck.”

“And gone looking for someone who wanted to kidnap Daniel?” Carter’s scepticism was on full throttle. “It’s a bit of a stretch, sir. Would he really go to such extremes to get his revenge on you?”

“Oh, you betcha, Carter. Once he found out where I was, nothing would stop him from finding some way of hurting me.”

“But, Daniel?”

“Methodical, Carter. To the point of obsession. If he found out I was the one responsible for putting him on ice in Siberia, he’d bide his time, do his research, and find the best way to hurt me – by targeting someone close to me. If he couldn’t get at my family, my team is the next best thing.”

“Alright.” Hammond straightened, fingers splayed on the wooden desktop. “Major, contact Doctor Markovaa and ask her for any further information she might have on Chahine. Then, I’d like you and Teal'c to go through every mission report from the Russian program and see if you can identify one where either Chahine did not return to base or there was an unauthorised ‘gate activation that he might have used to escape. Colonel, I think you need to make a phone call.”

After a quiet chorus of _yes, sir_ ’s, the remains of SG-1 rose and left the office. Jack trailed the others, hoping like hell Maybourne was still feeling charitable.

 

 

While Carter and Teal'c, guided by web cam conversations with Svetlana Markovaa, sifted through the surprisingly large amount of paperwork generated by the aborted Russian Stargate program, Jack helped Hammond rearrange the mission schedule for all the active SG teams. With SG-1 out of the rota, SG-8 down with a truly embarrassing offworld rash, and SG-13 getting over yet another set of unusual injuries – exactly how could three team members break their big toes on the same foot on the same mission? – they had twelve teams heading out into the big bad galaxy, all geared up and ready to be the first to spot one misplaced archaeologist. The MALP crews were working overtime to have enough of the machines running to keep up with the increased schedule of exploratory dial-ins. Planets that showed no sign of human activities were placed lower down the priority lists. Of primary interest were those with mid- to large-sized towns, with possible Goa'uld connections or likely to have their own offworld contacts.

Teams were briefed to subtly ask the locals about unusual comings and goings around their Stargate, or to look out for anyone or anything that might provide a clue to Daniel’s whereabouts. It was a big ask, but one each team took seriously.

Out they went into the unknown.

And back they came, one after the other. Not a single sighting of Daniel, no one knew anything, no one could help.

 

 

 _“O'Neill.”_

The sheer surprise of Teal'c raising his voice finally cut through the welter of grunts Jack made as his fists pounded into the punching bag. He broke off his attack, leaving the bag to swing back and sock him in the gut. “Teal'c?”

His implacable friend stood there, radiating serenity. For a brief instant Jack hated him for it. He shook his head and leaned on the bag. “Something up?”

“Master Bra’tac once told me that to cloud one’s mind with pointless emotion was to effectively cuckold oneself.”

Jack resisted the impulse to squirm. “He’s full of… helpful hints, isn’t he?”

Teal'c inclined his head. “I have a request.”

The silence that followed told Jack Teal'c was not about to elaborate in the middle of the gym. “My office?” he offered.

With a delicate twitch of his nose, Teal'c nodded. “I shall meet you there in ten minutes.”

 

 

Teal'c had made himself at home by the time Jack arrived, his hair still damp from the showers. He dropped into his chair and stared at Teal'c across the desk.

“We must accept that it could be some time before Daniel Jackson is found and returned home,” Teal'c began.

Jack grimaced. “Much as I wish otherwise, yeah, I think you’re right.”

“I am concerned for Daniel Jackson’s home.”

“How so? We’ve cleared all the valuables out, his work and journals are locked up and secure.”

Teal'c shifted and looked uncomfortable to Jack’s bemusement. “Among the people of Chulak, there is a belief that when a home is deserted the owner will never again be welcome within its walls. Even should he return, regardless of the reason for leaving, or the length of his absence, if the home remained empty for more than a moon’s cycle it will not again welcome an occupant. Ill luck will beset the owner all the days he lives in that house.”

“Must have been tough, you being away so much,” Jack said quietly.

“My wife was always there, or if she could not be, relatives or friends were always willing to stay in our stead. We would do no less for them.” Teal'c looked at Jack briefly: a hard, uncompromising stare. “An abandoned home loses its soul.”

The burned and shattered walls of Teal’c’s home on Chulak rose starkly in Jack’s mind. No wonder Drey’auc had never attempted to rebuild.

“What do you suggest?” They were into the second week of Daniel’s disappearance now, and no closer to finding him.

Teal’c stiffened his already ramrod posture. “I request permission to reside in Daniel Jackson’s home, to keep its spirit alive, until we are able to restore him to it.”

Jack pursed his lips. Teal'c had been given permission to live off-base a couple of years ago but he’d insisted he was comfortable on base. Perhaps he viewed his quarters as a barracks, the equivalent of his living space on one of Apophis’s ships, and therefore not worthy of the name ‘home’ and all the symbology attached to one. He nodded. He knew just how desolate an unlived-in home could feel. “I’ll clear it with Hammond. Daniel… Daniel will appreciate it, Teal’c.”

 

 

As the days stretched into weeks, SG-1 fell into a new routine. When they did go offworld it was for a maximum twelve-hour recon mission. Hammond had put them back in the rota, but he’d done some reshuffling to allow the premier team the opportunity to scope out new planets or revisit established contacts that may prove useful in their search. Of the new planets that showed promise for exploration, a more detailed mission was passed on to the other teams.

Consequently, Jack, Teal'c and Carter found themselves in the unusual position of having a regular day job. Even if that workday were sometimes fourteen hours long, they still could go home each night. They quickly fell into the pattern of leaving together and driving to Daniel’s apartment. Companionable dinners were held around his dining table, accompanied by a review of the day’s mission reports.

Jack placed his empty beer bottle on the coaster on the coffee table and sank back into the sofa cushions. He stared pensively at the candles glowing on the sideboard: one of the few indications of Teal'c’s occupancy. All around them Daniel’s personality reached out to him – from the soft bubbling of the fish tank to the incongruous sword collection. The place felt alive and lived in, and Jack silently thanked Teal'c for his perceptive move. If he closed his eyes, Jack just knew Daniel would be through that door, in the study, intently working on whatever had captured his interest.

Carter shuffled a stack of copied reports and dropped them on the table. “The only possible lead today is SG-15’s sighting of someone they thought might be Daniel on P27 968. SG-8 are gating in at 0400 in civilian dress for a closer look.”

Jack pulled a face. “It’s pretty slim. There was no trace of Goa'uld activity in the town, no reason anyone would take him there, other than as a staging point to somewhere else. We’ll see.” He’d questioned Major Scott for half an hour, taking him through the sighting minute by minute. Disappointment edged with frustrated urgency gnawed at him. Their own mission that day had yielded nothing and he’d cut it short after just two hours.

Silence settled thickly between them, accentuating the ticking of Daniel’s carriage clock on the knickknack cabinet. Jack let his gaze drift around the long room. A pile of books sat on the floor in front of the bookcase, an open notepad sandwiched between them. Faces – some familiar, some not – smiled down from the photo frames gathered on the sideboard. The polished surface of the piano reflected the flickering light from Teal'c’s candles. Jack smiled. Teal'c had inserted himself between the spaces of Daniel’s belongings without displacing any part of Daniel’s home. Teal'c himself was sitting on the balcony, facing the setting sun. As if he could feel Jack’s attention on him, he rose gracefully and stepped through the French doors.

“I believe we must utilize other means to search for Daniel Jackson,” he stated quietly.

“I doubt the general can authorise any more than he has, Teal'c,” Carter replied.

Teal'c nodded. “There are other resources we could use. Resources from offworld.”

Immediately interested, Jack sat up. “What have you got in mind?”

Teal'c opened his mouth but was halted by a knock on the front door. He arched an eyebrow at Jack who shrugged a ‘go ahead’ at him. They weren’t expecting anyone.

Teal'c pressed his eye to the door’s spy hole, then opened it and gave a short bow to whomever stood beyond. “General Hammond. General Carter. Please come in.”

Jack rose slowly watching Carter – his Carter – fairly leap from her seat. She slipped past Teal'c and Hammond in the narrow hall and flung herself into Jacob’s arms.

“Sir! This is unexpected. Er,” Jack looked lamely around and picked up an unopened bottle. “Beer?”

“Thank you, Jack. Don’t mind if I do.” Hammond settled into the opposite sofa in the sunken living room.

“Jacob! What the hell are you doing here?”

Jacob followed Carter to the sofas, curiously looking around at Daniel’s home. “Jack. Nice to see you, too. Forgive us for arriving unannounced. I was finally able to hand over my mission to another operative and I wanted to come and see if I could help you look for Danny. Thanks, Sam.” He accepted a glass of wine from his daughter and she settled in beside him.

“I’ve brought Jacob up to speed on Doctor Jackson’s abduction and our search so far,” Hammond added.

Jacob nodded. “The Tok’ra High Council is quite concerned, considering Daniel’s knowledge of their bases and operations.” Jacob held up a hand to forestall the defensive outburst that sprang to Jack’s lips. “I know it may not always appear that they care about members of the SGC, but Daniel in particular is held in high regard by Per’sus and the Council. They want him safe as much as you do.”

 _So they can keep using him,_ Jack thought uncharitably. “So, they got any leads for us?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Jacob grimaced. “We’ve received reports back from all the operatives we have working under cover with the System Lords. None have seen or heard of Daniel being held prisoner. However, there are several System Lords we don’t currently have under surveillance. Bastet recently moved home base and left behind a good chunk of her personal staff, including the Tok’ra assigned to watch her. Morrigan caught the last spy we inserted into her court. She sent him back – in pieces. We haven’t been able to attach anyone to Osiris yet. Seems he’s working completely alone, not even using a Lo’taur. And Ba'al – he’s a slippery one. We haven’t been able to insert an operative on his home planet for years now. Every time we do they’re discovered within days.”

“Could we get one of our people into Ba'al’s circle, Dad?” Carter asked. “If he’s discovering Tok’ra, maybe a human could slip past his security.”

“It’s a possibility, Sam, but even finding him is no easy matter. At last count we had seven different locations for his home planet.”

“What’s the likelihood of Daniel being taken by someone other than a System Lord, Jacob?” Hammond was nursing his beer, his brow furrowed in thought.

“It’s possible, George. There are a lot of organizations and crime lords working on the fringes of Goa'uld space. One of them may have decided Daniel was the ticket to new opportunity.”

“If that’s true, then our search parameters just got a whole lot wider,” Hammond replied.

“I’m afraid so, George.”

Jack planted his butt on the arm of the sofa. “Teal'c was about to come up with a good idea, weren’t you, T?”

Teal’c, sitting on a chair at the end of the coffee table, inclined his head. “As General Carter noted, there are those who operate on the fringes of Goa'uld territory. It may behoove us to search out one who has such connections, and employ them to aid our search for Daniel Jackson.”

Jack caught Carter’s eye and they both smothered a grin. Teal'c was the only guy who could insert ‘behoove’ into a sentence and get away with it.

“That’s a pretty good idea, Teal'c,” Jacob said. “I can think of several planets where we might find someone like that.”

“Jacob, do you have any idea how much a… mercenary would cost?” Hammond asked, and was promptly drowned out by Carter and Jack both protesting – loudly.

“Sir! Surely the government wouldn’t withhold funds that could help find Daniel?”

“General, I’ll sell my damned house if I have to,” Jack declared hotly.

Hammond held up a placating hand. “I wouldn’t for one minute place Doctor Jackson’s life under the consideration of budgetary constraints. The whole facility will be on mac and cheese before that happens. I’m just looking for a ballpark figure. We’ll be needing to requisition some new equipment for the gym soon. And I think Doctor Fraiser wants one of those electron microscopes. The expensive kind,” he added with a twinkle in his eye.

“Oooh,” Carter perked up, catching on quickly. “The physics lab needs one of those too, sir. And the geo lab….”

Jack slid down into the sofa, relieved and appreciating his CO all over again.

“Keep thinking big, George,” Jacob laughed. “These guys don’t come cheap.”

“So, what _are_ we talking here? Mercenaries?”

“I was thinking, O'Neill, of one who specialises in finding people,” Teal'c said.

“Bounty hunter!” Carter blurted out, a smile spreading across her face.

“And we know just the guy. He likes us.” Jack broke off at Teal'c’s ironically raised eyebrow. “Well, he liked Daniel.”

“Regardless of whether he liked us, I do believe the services of Aris Boch could be purchased to search for Daniel Jackson.”

“Aris Boch? I haven’t heard of him,” Jacob said.

“He’ll be vastly disappointed. He’s the greatest bounty hunter in the galaxy. He told us so himself.” Jack looked at Hammond. “He doesn’t come cheap, but he’d be just the man for the job, sir.”

Hammond nodded. “Jacob, any idea where we can contact this man?”

“Uh, well… Segonya has a healthy black market. There’s always someone there who can put you on the trail of what you’re looking for. Or Pardash. Or, oh, there are half a dozen places. It could turn out just as hard to find this Boch as it is to find Daniel.” He looked at SG-1. “If you guys are ready, we can ‘gate out tomorrow morning and start hunting the Hunter.”

“Sounds good to me.” Another knock at the door interrupted Jack. “And that sounds like dinner. Sirs, you’re welcome to stay. We ordered Thai.” He got up and headed for the door. Wallet in hand he opened it to admit the tantalising scent of Thai food.

“Well, aren’t you going to ask me in, Jack? Diner’s getting cold.” Harry Maybourne, food-warmer in his arms, stood grinning at him.

 

 

Jack stood at the bottom of the ramp listening to Walter’s countdown. One by one the ‘gate chevrons lit up. He forced himself to stillness, concentrating on lining up his boots exactly with the yellow and black hazard line painted on the concrete floor.

“Chevron five engaged.”

His right boot slid forward three millimetres.

“Chevron six engaged.”

Left toe back a smidge. Perfect. Behind him the others shuffled, whether from nervousness over the upcoming mission or unfamiliarity of being dressed like extras in a Dickens film, his kids and Feretti’s boys were silent – in a coiled for action kind of way. But it wasn’t action Jack expected this time out. Just answers. This was their fourth journey out to find Aris Boch. After the first three had failed to pan out, Jacob had disappeared for a couple of days, then returned confident he was on the right track. If they weren’t, they had several addresses from Harry – no guarantee as to their usefulness, though.

“Chevron seven engaged.”

The Stargate erupted into glorious life and as happened every time, Jack felt suddenly connected again to the rest of the universe. That gorgeous, hypnotic blue wash of… whatever was an open door, a step closer to Daniel. Jack caught Hammond’s eye up in the control room, and nodded back. His boots hit the ramp with a satisfying ring, Jacob matching him step for step. Up, exhale, in, out, shake off the cold and breathe air crowded with unfamiliar smells. Hands clenched on the butts of his pistol and zat secreted in the pockets of his long coat, he scoped the scene in seconds.

The Stargate stood in a large, open square of a bustling town. People walked purposefully in many directions, in and out of the streets that connected the square to the rest of the town. Very few even glanced their way; Stargate travel was obviously a common occurrence here. Jacob took the lead and Jack followed him past a group of well-dressed folks lined up at the DHD, ready to leave.

Ducking behind a tray-truck loaded with crates of vegetables, Jacob headed across a road and into a wide street, Teal'c pacing at his side and creating a kind of bow-wave that cleared a path for the rest of them. People thronged the sidewalks on both sides, while vehicles and horse-drawn carriages streamed up and down the road. Gradually, SG-2 fell back, covering their six and making the group less conspicuous. Jack noted Carter’s head swivelling this way and that as various vehicles tantalised her with their different engines. He kept his eyes on Jacob, in between mapping out the streetscape and noting possible escape routes.

Fifteen minutes’ walk had them in the town’s business district. The traffic was quieter, but the number of people moving in and out of the large stone buildings was still impressive. Jacob led them into one that hunkered on the quiet corner of another square, its nondescript façade blending in with the street and making it easier to miss. SG-2 drifted to positions of casual watchfulness while the rest went ahead. Inside, it was like an old bank Jack had once visited with his grandad when he was a kid – all dark wood, echoing vaulted ceilings and hushed voices.

This was the Hunter’s Guild Hall Jacob had briefed them on. After he’d got over the astonishment of bounty hunters having a guild to guide and regulate their trade, Jack had listened with growing appreciation to what Jacob had discovered. Apparently, one could not just bowl up to the Guild and ask to see your bounty hunter of choice. You had to make appointments, prove ability to cough up the fees required, etc. All of which Jacob had done before gating back to the SGC.

Once their IDs were cleared by the major domo, they were ushered into a small room, its walls bare and the only furniture a plain wooden bench set in the centre of the floor. Teal'c planted himself by the door, so Jack settled on the bench and examined the walls for listening devices. If they were there at all, they were well hidden. Silence wrapped them in their own thoughts. By the time the two Carters had joined him on the bench, Jack was ready to bolt.

Finally, a scrape of wood over wood had them all turning to the back wall. A panel had slid back to reveal a metal grille, and behind that was the shadowy outline of a man.

“About time.” Jack shoved to his feet and peered through the grille. “Boch? That you?”

“Names are not used during negotiations.” The voice was distorted by an awfully familiar-sounding gizmo.

“Oh, come on. We arranged to see Aris Boch. You sound like Aris Boch, so quit jerking us around.” Jack strained to see through the gloom in the next room.

A mirthless chuckle echoed out. “Jack O'Neill. As tactful as ever.” The outline moved closer, resolved into Boch’s scarred face. “I never expected to hear from you again. To what do I owe the honour of you seeking my services?” He sounded as restrained and cautious as ever.

“You told us you were the greatest bounty hunter ever. We’ve got a job for you.”

“A job? The mighty Tau’ri need little old me to help them?” Boch laughed. “Which Goa'uld are you after this time?”

“No Goa'uld. It’s one of us. Daniel, in fact.”

Boch was silent for several moments. “You want to put a contract of capture on Doctor Jackson? What did he do?”

“ _No_. Not like that,” Jack sputtered. “We need your help to find him.”

“Daniel was kidnapped on Earth nineteen days ago,” Carter chipped in. “The evidence suggests he was taken offworld.”

“The unassuming Doctor Jackson? Well, well. You have any idea who took him?”

“No, we don’t. That’s why we need you,” Jack pressed. “We’ll pay, too.”

“Oh, you certainly will, O'Neill.”

“Boch, can you think of anyone who might want Daniel?” asked Jacob.

“You said that there were bounties for the capture of each of us,” Teal'c added. “Could it be the one who initiated these bounties?”

“Hmm, well, it’s a possibility, although his bounty wasn’t the largest. Anyone wanting to collect on them would have started with you, Teal'c, or O'Neill. And, no, I don’t know who put those bounties on the market.”

“I thought you told Daniel his bounty was worth as much as the rest of us.” Jack kept peering into the dark room beyond, wishing he could see the man’s face more clearly.

“I just said that to make him feel wanted.”

“So, Daniel’s kidnap is unrelated to the bounties? Then who did it?”

“I’m good, O'Neill, but even I don’t know everything that goes on in the universe.”

“Well, can you _try_? We’re the good-guys, remember.”

Boch’s chuckle echoed hollowly from the grille. “The only good-guys are the ones with the money, O'Neill. Yeah, I can look around, but don’t forget our last encounter cost me – big time.”

Jack grunted and motioned Carter closer. “Diamonds good enough for ya?”

“Sir?”

“What is it, Francis?”

“Sir, the team leader’s briefing. You’re due there, well… now, actually.” The Master Sergeant’s voice floated apologetically through the open door of Jack’s office.

Great. Another round of mission reports, new assignments, and as an added joy this week, latest Intel from the Tok’ra. Jack’s hand tightened around the blue ceramic coffee mug, knowing full well that there would be a fresh round of apologetic words and sympathetic looks as each team leader reported no sign of Daniel. He really, _really,_ didn’t want to do this again. What he really, _really,_ wanted to do was go up to 17, root Daniel out from his moulderings and go have lunch with him, chat like buddies do, make plans for the weekend, happy in the knowledge that this young bookworm who had become his most unlikely friend was safe and where he belonged. Not lost. Not out there, somewhere. Not suffering who knew what at the hands of the Goa'uld. Not alone.

 _Crap_.

Waiting for Aris Boch to make contact, SG-1 had been out on three missions to the addresses provided by Harry Maybourne on the night of his appearance at Daniel’s apartment. He’d been genuinely willing to help. Although he wasn’t completely forthcoming about the type of information he’d passed on to Arseniy Chahine about the SGC, he’d been more than annoyed at being taken in by the former KBG man. Harry admitted Chahine had been a willing explorer and had gone off on several solo missions to scout possible sources of tech that might prove profitable to Harry’s new schemes.  They’d also accrued a list of planets that could serve as boltholes. ‘Retirement options’ was Harry’s term. Chahine had never mentioned making contact with anyone looking to get their hands on Daniel. Harry left them with the ‘gate addresses to planets they could make contact with black-marketeers, and with a promise to do what he could with the few connections he still had on Earth.

 

 

Two of the addresses had tanked. One was an arid wasteland with a ghost town populated only by big hairy rat-things. Whoever had done business there had packed up and left months ago. The second was still occupied but it was clear nobody was interested in speaking to them.  Hours of polite questioning degenerated into impolite aggression, which had produced a fear-fuelled admission that the Duke who ruled the state with an iron fist was wintering on the far side of the continent and would not return to do business in the town for four months. He’d been gone for two months already.

The third planet…. It still turned his stomach to think about it. A horrible little collection of leaning wooden buildings that sat on the flat grasslands like a boil on a bull’s butt. The place had teemed with people. They’d only been there five minutes when a greasy one-eyed man of indeterminate age had offered them the choicest selection of his slaves. Jack had stood rooted to the spot, flanked by Carter and Ferretti, backed up by SG-2, and watched as Teal'c explained to the gentleman that in no way did they intend to purchase any of the starved, filthy, despairing people the man had in his pen.

Feeling sicker and sicker by the minute, the two teams examined every slaver in the village, pushed through the piles of human refuse to see for themselves that Daniel was not amongst the pathetically forlorn slaves. Outnumbered and outgunned, they had to close their eyes to the suffering around them and leave. On the track back to the Stargate though, Jack found himself staring at one of the slavers dragging a woman off into the grass. Heedless of Carter’s pleas for caution he stalked after them. The slaver pushed the woman to the ground, long knife raised for a fatal blow. Jack took the top of his head off with one sweet shot. When he tugged the body off the woman and helped her to her feet all he could say was, “I’m sorry.”

She was so ill she could barely stand, so he carried her back to the track and right on through the Stargate to the infirmary. Fraiser told him later that they’d found a baby, barely a week old, wrapped tight against her chest. Mother and child were going to be okay, well, after a lot of feeding up and care. Plans were already being made to contact Tupelo and ask if he’d take in yet another of the galaxy’s strays.

 

 

Jack sighed, and focused on the mug in his hand. _Huh_. How long had that been there? It was Daniel’s mug, the huge, blue thing that had fuelled many discoveries and irritatingly insightful leaps of logic.

 _Daniel_ ….

Possessively clutching the mug, Jack made his way to the briefing room, where he sat for over two hours with his fellow team leaders, absorbing, sifting and sorting the flow of information: missions completed, discoveries catalogued, new planets charted and tested. The good news was that a combined troop of four SG teams had gone back to the slaver’s village, and liberated every one of the slaves. The slavers had resisted – and regretted it. The bad news was at the end of each leader’s report came that regretful shake of the head or, “Sorry, Jack”. No sign of Daniel. No bounty hunters willing to trade him. No Goa'uld boasting of his capture.

 

 

The monthly Intel debrief from the Tok’ra, Nintak, had already dragged on for forty minutes, and Jack was suddenly at breaking point. Unable to sit still, he jerked to his feet, avoiding the questioning look from Hammond. Daniel’s mug seemed to be permanently attached to his hand, so he obliged it by heading to the catering table at the back of the room. Picking up one of the carafes, he emptied the remaining few inches of coffee into it.

 _There ya go, buddy._

Flickering movement caught his eye. Reflected in the huge observation window was the footage from some undercover Tok’ra operative, playing on the large screen at the front of the room. Jack gazed, only half-seeing, at the gathering of Goa'uld as Nintak described Ba'al’s retinue being received at Yu’s palace for a division of spoils from a recent joint battle. Extravagantly dressed men and women flickered in the window’s reflection. Ba'al, haughty and imposing, surrounded by stiff-backed Jaffa and snooty-looking sycophants. Yu, imperious and inscrutable, seated on a throne of black lacquer and red silk.

And one figure, closely guarded and half-hidden by the press of people, veiled in shimmering black, head bowed. People shifted, settled on huge floor cushions. The veiled one sank to the floor in an oddly ungainly manner – all knees and elbows. Just like—

“Son of a _bitch!”_

Jack slammed the carafe down on the table, barely registering that he’d missed by two feet and the carafe was clattering loudly on the floor. He spun around, determined strides taking him across the room. Heedless of the Tok’ra’s protest, he snatched the remote out of Nintak’s hand and reversed the digital footage. Pause. Slow-mo. Pause. _There._ The veiled face rose, caught for a frame’s beat looking directly toward the hidden camera.

Jack felt his old heart skip and a rush of relief so pure it left him dizzy.

“Colonel?” Hammond was on his feet, peering around Jack’s shoulder.

Jack raised a finger, begging a moment’s indulgence. He snapped the finger toward the SF on duty at the door.

“You. Teal’c and Carter. Here. _Now_.”

The SF bolted.

“Jack?”

Unable to tear his eyes from the screen, he mumbled, “Sir, just bear with me. I need them to see.”

Hammond stepped back. A low murmuring rose up from the officers gathered around the table.

Thudding footsteps announced the arrival of Teal’c. “General Hammond,” he acknowledged politely. “O’Neill?”

Another set of boots clattered up the stairs. “Sirs?” Carter was out of breath and instinctively homed in on her team.

Jack thumbed the zoom on the player. “Look.”

Framed in shimmering black fabric and glittering silver and crystal ornaments, two blue eyes stared directly at them. Two blue eyes so achingly familiar, so dear to each of them, so well known there was no room for doubt.

“Oh – Daniel!”

“It is indeed Daniel Jackson.”

“Thank you,” Jack sighed and sucked in what felt like the first breath of fresh air in forever.

 

 

“So, _Ba'al’s_ got Doctor Jackson? Why?” Major Kiernan voiced the question that was still rumbling around in Jack’s head. With his instinctive discovery of Daniel confirmed by Teal'c and Carter, he’d insisted on re-examining the footage frame by frame, and grilled Nintak again and again for every last scrap of Intel the Tok’ra had of this meeting between Yu and Ba'al. He’d watched, emotions buttoned down tight, as the concealed camera recorded the entrance of Ba'al’s retinue. Dozens of people streamed into Yu’s hall, Ba'al in the lead and surrounded by Jaffa and servants. Now he’d been identified, Daniel could be seen directly behind Ba'al. He was clothed head to foot in shimmering black, a sparkling veil of gems shielding his eyes, but there was a lot of skin on show too. Jack didn’t like the silver bands around Daniel’s wrists or the pendant dangling down his bare chest. He appeared unrestrained but walked without protest behind the Goa'uld. Daniel was too quiet to Jack’s mind – when had Daniel ever walked anywhere without attempting to examine everything around him?

He glanced at Carter. She met his eyes with a frown. “He’s been drugged,” she said flatly, cold anger underlying her tone.

Jack flicked his gaze to Teal'c, got a nod of agreement. There was something else in Teal'c’s eyes. He wasn’t forthcoming so Jack held off asking for the moment. The filmed meeting droned on and on. Jack drank in every second of it, eyes glued to Daniel who sat quietly, head bowed at Ba'al’s feet. Definitely not right. At one point Daniel seemed to wake up to his surroundings. He began to fiddle with his bare toes, then seemed to shrink down in on himself and rock slowly back and forth. Ba'al reached out and patted Daniel’s head, stilling the movement as if Daniel were a fractious pet. Ba'al shared a joke with Yu, and Jack wanted to kill them both – slowly.

Eventually it was over. People rose and moved away. Ba'al walked past the camera’s range and out of sight. For a few heartbeats, Daniel was in plain view as he followed the Goa'uld and Jack’s breath caught in his throat as he got a good look at what Daniel had been dressed in. Not only were his arms and chest bare, but the… skirt, for want of a better name, was slit to the top of Daniel’s thighs and the material, spangly though it was, hid not one inch of his friend’s skin from view. Jack felt himself go cold. By the time his eyesight had refocused, Daniel had been hidden from view and was gone. The stunned hush around the table told him everyone else had seen too. He lifted his head and stared at Teal'c, whose grim, controlled look confirmed the sinking feeling in his gut.

Kiernan’s question broke the silence. Surprisingly, it was Teal'c who replied. “Despite appearances, I believe Ba'al seeks to use Daniel Jackson to gain tactical advantage over the other System Lords. No less a reason would persuade him to risk breaking the Asgard treaty between the Goa'uld and the Tau’ri.” Teal'c cast a stony glare over the gathered commanders. “He seeks to divert Yu from his true purpose by dressing Daniel Jackson in this manner.” Rumour and speculation were neatly nipped in the bud, and Jack saw the faces of his fellow team leaders harden with the same anger churning inside him.

“But, still, why Daniel?” Carter asked. “Ba'al has to be after something he thinks Daniel specifically can give him.”

 “Perhaps Ba'al merely thought Doctor Jackson the easiest target for his purpose.” Nintak was a youngish Tok’ra, making his first debrief to the SGC. He wasn’t going to get much older with that kind of opinion. Jack glared daggers at him.

“There’s been no attack on Earth, so that tells me that either Jackson is holding out okay so far, or this planet isn’t Ba'al’s target,” said Colonel Edwards. Jack felt a surprise rush of gratitude to the hardnosed soldier.

Hammond cleared his throat, a little too loudly. “Nintak, you obviously have not met our Doctor Jackson. If you had you would never have made that assumption. Now, tell us how long ago this meeting took place.”

Nintak squirmed under Hammond’s stern look. “Six days ago, General Hammond. The report from our operative came in two days later, after Ba'al had departed.”

“Anything else happen after that meeting, or did Ba'al leave then and there?” Ferretti asked.

“Oh, no, Ba'al stayed in Yu’s palace that night. There was something unusual….” The Tok’ra trailed off as he sorted through data chips and readouts. He slid a chip into the player and the screen brightened with a written report.

Jack took one look at the flowing Goa'uld script. “And what exactly was that?” he asked in a perfectly reasonable tone that had the Tok’ra blanching and blushing.

“There was to have been a ceremonial tea party the following day, to seal the agreements between Ba'al and Yu. But something odd happened. Our operative was unable to discover exactly what occurred, however, in the early hours of the morning Ba'al’s Jaffa raised an alarm and departed from the palace in haste. Some time later Lord Yu was seen returning to his rooms, just after Ba'al’s Al’kesh departed from the landing platform on the roof. Ba'al and his – ah – Doctor Jackson were not seen in the palace again. Questioning of servants later revealed they had disembarked from a Tel’tak and gone straight to the Al’kesh. It was most unusual, but we have been unable to gather any further information as to what happened.”

“Any idea where Ba'al went from there?”

“I regret no, Colonel. We assumed he returned to his home planet, but we cannot be certain.”

More questions came from the other team leaders and Hammond, ideas and suggestions were tossed around and discussed enthusiastically, but SG-1 sat quietly at one end of the table, grouped together in silent, mutual support.

 

 

Jack felt about ready to leap out of his skin. He’d watched the Tok’ra footage so many times he could play it over in his head. Every step, every turn of the head, every move made by the shrouded figure screamed ‘Daniel’ to him. He propped his elbows on the briefing room table and sank his head into his hands.

The other team leaders had dispersed a while back. Ferretti was gearing up his team to find Boch and relay the news. Reynolds and SG-12 were gating out with Nintak to glean as much Intel on Ba'al from the Tok’ra as possible, and also to contact Jacob. Carter was down in the anthro department coordinating with Rothman, Nyan and the rest of Daniel’s staff on researching everything they could about this new Goa'uld. None of the SGC teams had made contact with him or his Jaffa before. That and the fact that _he_ knew enough about _them_ to take Daniel told Jack this was a very dangerous enemy.

He lifted his head, watching Hammond through the star-chart window as he updated the president. Teal'c stood at the observation window, staring down at the Stargate. For a moment, Catherine’s voice echoed, words once spoken in this very room: ‘It’s _your_ Stargate.’ Daniel’s blue eyes looked at Jack from the TV screen, a beacon now guiding the way to his location.

 _I’m coming, buddy. Just hang on till I get there._

 


	10. Buried In The Web

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a description of attempted rape.

Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses,

And being set, I’ll smother thee with kisses.

 

 

Daniel blindly followed Ba'al, into the Al’kesh, down garish golden corridors to the control deck. Away from Yu, and his undisguised lust for possession and power.

Ba'al seated himself in the co-pilot’s chair. Daniel sagged to the floor behind him, clutched the red silk sheet tighter around his body and concentrated on breathing.

He gagged and valiantly resisted throwing up.

“Ah. The proximity of Lord Yu has triggered the defensive actions of your God’s Breath,” Ba'al commented. “A useful property of Our Breath that dissuades another System Lord who seeks to… acquire one who is in Our favour. It will ease soon.”

Daniel squinted at Ba'al, comprehension beyond his reach. A container filled with sweet-scented water appeared in front of his face. He looked up, blearily recognised Elsh, and took the drink gratefully.

The blue sky of Yu’s home swiftly turned to the blackness of space, and in no time they were docked on Ba'al’s Ha’tak. Daniel trailed Ba'al through endless corridors, the sheet dragging like the train of a despoiled wedding gown. His befuddled head and upset stomach gradually settled by the time Ba'al swept onto the Peltak, his orders sending the waiting soldiers into action. The ship gathered speed and left Yu’s world a rapidly shrinking blue speck behind them.

Ba'al turned and gathered Daniel to him in a companionable embrace. Startled, Daniel stared into the Goa'uld’s eyes, then felt the sharp tug of displacement as the ship fled to hyperspace. Ba'al held their clinch for longer than was necessary. He pressed his hand-device to Daniel’s throat, squeezing gently. When he removed his hand, the silencer went with it, deactivated. He sauntered off, dispersing the Jaffa until only the two of them remained.

The Goa'uld stood facing the force-shielded window, staring at the streaks of light that marked their passage. Daniel wondered if the light was from stars the ship passed or some other astronomical phenomenon. _Sam would know._ He closed his eyes and coughed. Hunger gurgled his stomach, replacing the Yu-induced nausea. _What the hell happened down there?_ Accusations, threats, preposterous claims of ambition and deception swam through his head. _Was it all true? Or none of it?_ Tired, confused and missing the strength of his friends, he looked for a seat. The only available one was Ba'al’s stone throne, but before he could get to it Ba'al glanced over his shoulder and grinned at him.

“Is it not magnificent, Daniel?”

Daniel fought the Nishta-induced response to plaster himself to Ba'al’s side. He resumed his slow walk to the throne, clutched one of the stone lion armrests, and lowered his trembling body onto the cold seat. “Ra’s was bigger,” he sniped, deliberately referring to the ship and not the view.

Oddly, instead of being angry, Ba'al’s grin widened, delighted for some reason that escaped Daniel. “You are correct, my dear Daniel. Our humble vessel pales in the shadow of Ra’s mighty warship – a ship all System Lords aspired to possess. We have heard the tales, Daniel, that you had the honour of meeting Ra on his Ha’tak, _Mi’Canah.”_

 _First Ship of the Stars_. _An apt name._ “Yes, I did. Just before I had the honour of blowing him to space dust.” He hoped Jack wouldn’t mind being left out of that claim to fame, just this once.

“Indeed you did. Indeed….” Ba'al trailed off, thoughtfully eyeing him.

Daniel met Ba'al’s stare with his own. Even though the Nishta continued to cloud his thoughts, the scene that had recently played out with Yu was becoming clearer in his mind. “How many more lies are you going to come up with? There’s no way in hell I’ll spy for you. Subterfuge is not one of my strengths, so even if you manage to… brainwash me, I can guarantee I’ll be discovered well before I can achieve your objectives. That, or my own people will take me down.”

“You underestimate your own skills, Daniel.” Ba'al began to slowly pace along the length of the window, hands clasped behind his back, head turning to keep Daniel in sight. “Fear not, when Our work on Tsydon is done, the threat Anubis posses will cease to exist.”

“Osiris did _not_ turn me into his spy.” He refused to believe it. Just… no. “What you told Yu, it was all a lie?” His voice rose questioningly as his brain finally processed what Ba'al had said on the planet. “She didn’t do anything to me, apart from trying to kill me. And you’re not brainwashing me to spy on Osiris or Anubis. You’re looking for something. It was all a sham. You lied to Yu, to me… everything you say is a lie.” He closed his eyes, his head pounding. “Haven’t you done enough to me already?” The words slipped past his defences. The future held only the promise of more scans, more memories being shredded from his brain. Soon there would be nothing of him that Ba'al couldn’t toy with and use for his own purposes. “And what happens to me when you’re done? Throw me away like yesterday’s newspaper?” That Ba'al would return him to Earth as originally promised was now clearly never going to happen.

“We may have lied to Lord Yu.” Ba'al’s voice was soft, regretful even. “But We have not lied to you, Daniel. Our goals are as We have stated to you many times. And only your unique knowledge will help Us achieve them. We have not deceived you on this.”

Daniel let a hopeless snicker of laughter escape him. “So you’re gonna be head god of the galaxy. Nothing ever changes. Certainly not a Goa'uld.”

“As We told you earlier, Daniel, We have no desire to replace Ra. His rule was unparalleled, and stabilised Goa'uld society for thousands of years. Even I,” he gave a mock-humble bow, “could not hope to replicate such an endeavour. We plan to rule as a Triad, our partners and Ourselves. With the assistance of Yu and others, we will undermine Anubis and bring a new era of peace and stability to both our peoples.”

Daniel considered him for long moments. “Right. This Triad is you, Osiris and…?”

“And one who will be revealed to you in due time. With Our loved ones by Our side—oh, Daniel! The future brings such promise. However, time becomes limited, Daniel. We are not as progressed with your scans as We had anticipated.” Ba'al wandered away to stare at the streaking star-field. “The scarring was unexpected. It prevents us from finding that which we seek.”

Dread clutched at him, making Daniel grimace. He wanted to deny it – loudly, vehemently – that he wasn’t damaged, not marked by the insidious sarcophagus’ relentless attempts to heal his undamaged body. _Or was it?_ He tuned out Ba'al’s monologue on the evils of Anubis and let his thoughts run. The sarcophagus sought out damage and repaired it. He’d thought that after the initial treatment there had been nothing to fix, but that hadn’t been true. He’d seen the scarring on his brain scans, so fine and hidden Janet had never discovered it. The sarcophagus had found, and healed, damage to his brain that had been minute enough to not cause any obvious symptoms.

And what had caused that damage? When? He wasn’t short of candidates. The list he’d given Ba'al in the scanning room was frightening to consider, but he’d put a month’s pay on either Nem’s memory sifter or having his brain drilled by both Klorel and Ra. He rested his head in his hand and closed his eyes. The pain of the hand-device had been like nothing he’d ever experienced before. It had haunted his dreams for years until other events challenged it for space in his lonely sleep. How ironic. The use of Shyla’s sarcophagus had sent him on a spiral of destructive addiction, yet at the same time it had healed a silent damage that may have caused even greater harm. _Might have ended up in the white room a lot sooner than I did._

“Daniel?” Ba'al’s soft, insistent voice broke through maudlin reverie, making him start.

Looking up he found Ba'al right in front of him. “What?”

“Come, Daniel. You are tired. It’s time to rest.”

 

 

Down endless gold-plated corridors, Daniel followed Ba'al until his fogged brain finally registered the difference in this area of the ship. Guards stood in pairs at intervals of ten feet, armed and serious. These were not the usual ranks of Jaffa that populated the rest of the ship. They were dressed in the royal purple tunic and pants of the household guard – Rephaim.  Puzzled, he slowed, only to have Ba'al grab him and tug him along. He twisted his arm, but was completely unable to break free.

“What—where are you going?”

“Our plans must proceed without delay, Daniel.” Ba'al towed him through a doorway guarded by four Rephaim, and into a large room.

Anger and uncertainty surged through him, loosening the Nishta’s hold on him. “What are you doing? Let me go.”

Ba'al halted in front of an enormous wall painting, a vibrant jumble of planets, astronomical wonders and Goa'uld that Daniel could barely make sense of before it swept up to reveal a door, which swung open into a dimly lit room.

Certain nothing good could be in such a place, he pulled back. “No.”

Unperturbed, Ba'al entered the room, his relentless hold on Daniel’s arm giving no choice. “Now, Daniel, there is nothing to fear. We know the scarring We discovered upsets you. We wish only to heal you.”

“Heal…?” A chill prickled his skin.

“You will sleep a healing sleep, Daniel,” Ba'al continued. The lights brightened around them. “And when you awaken we will be home, and ready to continue with Our plan to free our people.”

The lights shone off the golden surface of the only object in the room. Ba'al’s words washed over him. All Daniel could do was stare in horror at the gleaming sarcophagus. His brain, his breath, his heart – all slammed to a halt. Abject terror, more raw and pure than anything he’d ever experienced engulfed him.

Somewhere, someone was making a horrible sound, a low keen of anguished lust. Ba'al was looking at him like he’d lost his mind, and Daniel thought perhaps he just had as he realised the sound was coming from himself.

The jaws of the beast cracked open. One, two steps and he’d be in it. Craving surged in his blood, a sensation he’d never wanted, never dared hope to experience again. As he’d proved once before, in a dull concrete room buried under a mountain, the Breath of the Gods, Nishta, could fuel desperation and channel it into unexpected strength. In a detached, dream-like vision, he saw his hand break Ba'al’s grip – and possibly some fingers – saw surprise on Ba'al’s face turn to alarm as Daniel ducked his reaching grasp, spun on one foot and slam an elbow into the back of the Goa'uld’s host’s neck. Ba'al fell in slow motion, shocked and speechless.

Daniel plunged for the door and fled, heedless of direction, as long as it was away from that soul destroying, infernal machine. Gold corridors flashed by, melding into each other. Surprised faces came near, fell to the floor. Alarms and shouting filled his head with their din, but failed to halt his headlong dash to – where? It didn’t matter. As long as it was _away_. Something grabbed his legs, pulled him down, but he twisted, kicked, clawed upright and staggered on. Doors opened before him, empty ones he ran through, others filled with angry men turned him in another direction. One open door swallowed him in, presented another with an inviting window that beckoned with the cold emptiness of space. He reached for it… and his body sizzled with blue fire. Nerves screaming, he lurched and slid down the door, useless fingers falling away from the big red button that led to freedom.

 

 

Awareness filtered back to Daniel, through nerves and senses still thrumming with remnants of the zat blast. His mind was clear though, the Nishta burned away by the electrical charge. He concentrated on breathing and listened to the sounds around him: booted footsteps, a dull metallic clink of body armour, further off a conversation in hushed, worried tones. He opened one eye, saw boots just inches from his face.

Apparently he was lying on the floor…. Yep, with wrists and ankles tightly bound. Yu’s red silk sheet had no doubt fallen by the wayside and nobody had bothered to cover him. The polished metal floor was cold, but immaculately clean. _Points to the Jaffa for their housekeeping, then._

The voices outside changed, one snapped orders, which silenced the others. The boots by his face clunked together, their wearer jerking to attention as another man entered the tiny room, his boots’ highly polished leather reflected Daniel’s face. He stared at himself, unable to muster any further energy. One by one, the Jaffa retreated out of sight, leaving Daniel with Ba'al, who sighed and seemed at a loss for words.

 _Any minute now he’ll call them back and have them throw me in… it._ Vainly, he tried to prepare, to think of a way to escape the disgusting addiction and madness that was his only foreseeable future. Nothing. He was doomed, as defenceless as if he’d been taken as a host. Unless….

“Kill me.” The words rang in his ears, unreal and sickening.

“Kill you?” Ba'al crouched down. “We have assured you Daniel, that We intend no harm to you. We wish only to help you. Yet, you run from Us, attack Us and Our Jaffa, injuring many of them. Why?”

“It won’t work. You said there was scarring. That means whatever was damaged has already been healed. All it will do is send me mad. The human body can’t withstand the affects of the sarcophagus when there’s no actual injury to heal. It just….” _Robs you of your humanity._ “Please. I know I can’t stop you, but I’m _begging_. Kill me before you put me in the sarcophagus.” With death to heal, maybe he stood some chance of keeping his soul intact.

Cloth rustled as Ba'al seated himself on the floor. Daniel switched his gaze to the star-streaked darkness beyond the door’s view port.

“You have used a sarcophagus, Daniel.” It was a statement, not a question. “Many times, for you to now fear it so much. We have heard tales of the effect it has on humans. It is why we do not allow anyone to use them. Only a System Lord possess the strength of mind to resist its addictive qualities.” His hand touched Daniel’s, making him flinch.

Daniel silently cursed himself and braced for the killing blow. If Jack ever found out….

Ba'al’s fingers threaded through his hair, restless, absently thoughtful almost. Quiet minutes ticked by.

“No,” Ba'al declared loudly, making Daniel start again. “We shall not subject you to Our sarcophagus, nor shall We take your life, for however short a time. In fact…. You are most fortunate, Daniel. We possess the means to tend to you and allow Us to find that which we seek without resorting to the degradation you fear. And, We shall be able to accommodate Our Lady’s needs at the same time.” He patted Daniel’s bare shoulder and stood. “Yes. We shall follow a new course of action, which will enrich all three of us.”

Ba'al called his Jaffa, and stood aside as they hauled Daniel to his feet and released the bindings. Exhaustion crashing down on him, he dimly felt the rough soldier’s cloak wrapped around his naked, shivering body. The Jaffa withdrew, leaving him to stare blankly at Ba'al.

“Come, Daniel.” Ba'al stepped out into the corridor. “An airlock is no place for either of us.”

 _Airlock_? He glanced around the little space. An awful chill crept over him as he stared at the big red button – the outer hatch release. Only the open inner door had kept him from dying a quick, agonising death.

Numb, he joined Ba'al and saw Elsh standing deferentially some feet behind.

“Go with Elsh, Daniel. Eat, rest. Upon our return home there will be much work to do.”

“Home. Work.” His thoughts were still spinning but only single words were getting through. He stared at Ba'al, trying hard to see the intent masked by the smile. Daniel felt something inside him harden. Yes, he would eat and sleep, and he’d make his body and scattered brain ready to fight Ba'al – any way he could. And just maybe, at the end of it, he _could_ go home.

 

 

Ba'al’s return to Tsydon was nothing short of triumphal. Forgoing the transport rings in the Great Hall, Ba'al had them deposited at the entrance to the causeway, where they were met by cheering locals, Rephaim and the Court. They made a slow, noisy promenade up the causeway and into the citadel with Ba'al dispensing gifts to his Companions as he went. Daniel, now immaculately dressed in pants and a sleeveless jacket of midday blue, paced a step behind Ba'al, fighting to focus his thoughts over both the recent fresh dose of Nishta and the clamour around him. Impossible.

Pidray and Anath grabbed him, delightedly waving the decorated fans Ba'al had given them, before dashing away to share in the bounty of silks, perfumes, clothes, even tea sets that Ba'al dispensed from chests stacked in the citadel’s forecourt. _He went shopping? When?_ It was too much to concentrate on.

The fog in his brain rolled over his thoughts leaving him unresponsive to the outside world. The tumult subsided and someone was tugging on his arm, encouraging him up the steps. He looked up at the stained glass over the massive doors, blinded by the sun’s reflection. He faltered, stopped on the threshold and when the dazzlement left his eyes he stared at Astarte, poised trembling in front of him. Tears glistened her eyes. Her voluptuous red mouth quivered with an attempted smile.

“Ah! Our love.” Ba'al came up behind Daniel, one hand clamped possessively on his shoulder, the other reaching past him to caress Astarte’s cheek. “We have returned as We promised. Our Adon and Ourselves are enriched to be in your presence once more.”

She pressed a kiss into Ba'al’s palm, then caught Daniel’s hand and kissed his fingers. “Our desolation ends, beloved.” She stared at him, hunger and determination clear in her eyes.

Daniel blinked. Odd. Astarte was six inches away from him and he wasn’t feeling any of the nausea he’d experienced in Yu’s presence. Was the Nishta that selective? Or was it Ba'al’s close association with Astarte that gave Daniel a kind of immunity to her Goa'uld? Was that a good thing? Probably not.

Ba'al was whispering in her ear. Astarte looked pleased, kissed him and then Daniel. A firm grip on his arm drew Daniel through the entrance. Consorts and concubines flooded into the hall behind them, a riot of chatter and laughter. Music, rising up from oud and drum players tucked into niches along the walls, joined the excited hubbub. As his lovers swamped Ba’al, Daniel edged away, and hovered on the fringe of the developing party.

He’d slept for the rest of the journey back to Tsydon, and woken with a blessedly clear head. That hadn’t lasted long though. Ba'al had interrupted him in the middle of dressing, caught him up in another pseudo-jovial hug and once again dosed him with Nishta. Only an hour later, the effects were still strong: the mindless desire to plunge into the happy throng, displace whoever currently had his master’s attention and beg for a look, a touch, anything…. He shuddered. _Not master. Ba'al. Goa'uld. Bad guy._ He pulled away from the memory of the Goa'uld’s embrace, the way his skin crawled under his touch.

Daniel managed to step further back, his head a little clearer. Something soft bumped against his back. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and moved aside. A small hand curled around his arm, making him look down. Arsay, consort and daughter of Ba'al, gazed shyly up at him.

“Adon, our Lord’s blessing has brought you safely home to us. Can—can you tell me what it was like to travel through the stars? Never have I left our home, but I do imagine it to be the most wondrous experience to soar through the darkness.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s interesting.” He absently glanced at her.

“Are the stars really all colours of the living world, as Helel says they are? I think he invents such stories to tease us. Everyone can see they glow white in the night sky.”

His attention drifted away from her, senses automatically tracking where _he_ was. He caught himself and forced an answer. “Yes, they really are colourful. Every shade you could imagine.”

“Oh, how blessed you are, Adon. I strive every day to be a worthy Companion so that perhaps one day our Lord will favour me so, and take me into the stars.” She fanned her face and gazed wistfully at Ba'al.

Daniel stared at her: a young Goa'uld, dependent on the largesse of one more powerful than her for her entire existence. _There’s so much we don’t know about them. Will she turn into a queen one day, or does she stay a servant her whole life? And how long do the lower ranked Goa'uld live? Can’t imagine Ba'al letting them hop in the sarcophagus with him…._

And then his brain conjured up a truly awful image of Ba'al and his Companions having a ménage-a-many in the sarcophagus. He shook himself and wished, not for the first time, that his imagination would shut up and leave him alone.

He tore his gaze away from Arsay’s dreamy expression and looked over the revellers in the Great Hall, wondering if he could slip away unnoticed to his room. Maybe up the stairs….

Ba'al and Astarte stood halfway up the staircase, smiling benevolently down on the happy crowd. Ba'al’s eyes connected instantly with Daniel’s, and without conscious thought he was moving. Slipping between laughing dancers, Daniel was drawn across the echoing room and up the steps, halting two down from where his—Ba'al stood. The Goa'uld reached out to him and patted down a stray lock of hair.

“We are greatly blessed, are We not Adon, to receive such a joyous greeting from Our household?”

Daniel tried not to look up at him, tried not to lean into his touch, to yearn for more. He failed. Again. “Yes,” he whispered.

Another hand replaced Ba'al’s, and drew his gaze up to meet intense green eyes. “Welcome home, Eshmun,” Astarte purred. “My heart has withered without your presence. I need your beauty by my side so that I may blossom to life, as the spring feeds the anemone.”

“My Lady,” he murmured. Wondering again why her nearness wasn’t affecting him, instead there was a compulsion to press his lips to her hand, kiss her fingers and wish she would touch more of his skin. Ba'al and Astarte were conversing softly over his head. He ignored them and inched closer to the Lady, feeling the bond between himself and Ba'al stretch to accommodate the Lady.

“The sun rises strong in the sky, beloved,” she whispered. “My heart beats once more now you are returned.” She caressed her fingers over Daniel’s bowed head. “My sun and moon come home. Will my Lord come to my bower?”

“Alas, Our heart, We have the tedious business of Our realm to tend.”

Astarte pulled her hand back, her distressed protests igniting Daniel’s own fears. He sidled closer to her, as if inches further from Ba'al would protect him. Ba'al’s hand gripped his shoulder, making him flinch.

“It is Our deep regret We cannot be with Our love in the sun’s light. But perhaps Our Adon would keep by your side in Our stead.” Ba'al ran his hand under Daniel’s chin, forcing him to look up. “Would you do this for Us?”

Daniel focused on him, found his heart surging with need and with a physical effort looked away into the piercing green eyes of the Lady. _Need to get away_. “Yes,” was all he could manage.

Astarte’s delight was overwhelming and prolonged. Eventually she took Daniel’s hand and that strange transporter wrapped around their bodies, whisked them off and left them standing close together by a great bed.

Cut off from Ba'al he swayed, his clearing head warring with the desire of his body to race back to his captor’s side.

“Did you weep at our parting, fondest?” She moved around him, touching, caressing, and kissing his arms, shoulders and chest. “We grieved so deeply, yet knew you would return. You always return, my Eshmun.”

 _No… Daniel. I’m Daniel._ Muzzily he looked down on the spray of red anemones caught in the twists of her raven dark hair. “I….”

She looked up, eager for his merest word.

“Can—can we walk? Outside? I’d like to see the sun.”

“Of course!” She snatched up his hand and pulled him to the door. “We shall bask in the day’s glory, my sweet.”

The doors flew open at her command and she led him into her temple, through the throng of priestesses and worshippers. Unlike before, the people of Tsydon halted their worship and bowed their heads, not only to their goddess but to Daniel as well. Anxiety tightened his chest as the ripple of respect flowed out to those in the temple grounds.

 _Don’t do that,_ he silently begged. _I’m just a man, nothing more._

Out in the bright sun, Astarte flung herself in a giddy dance over the grass, twirling like a girl. “Feel how glorious the sun shines for you, my love. It is your presence that makes it beam so perfectly for us.” She skipped through flowerbeds, planted a quick kiss on his lips, then tugged him along across the gardens to the stone bridge. “See, my honeyman, the very earth rejoices at your return.”

Daniel followed her pointing hand. All along the river, on each bank and amongst the rocks in the water, trailing vines dangled heavily with clusters of red anemones, floating or stirring gently in the breeze; it was as if the river itself bled. Stunned, he looked at the woman pressed to his side, the same flowers in her hair sending their exotic perfume into his lungs.

 

 

At his insistence, they spent the whole day outdoors, wandering fields or shady lanes, avoiding the temples but unable to shake the citadel and the danger to Daniel that lurked within it. At every turn he would catch a glimpse of it, sitting amid the sparkling sea like a siren on a rock.

Inevitably, the daylight waned, and with it built a dread of what the night would bring. Astarte was snuggled to his side as they sat under a canopy of lilacs, high on the cliff path. A soft susurration made him look around, and there was Ba'al, standing a few feet away, admiring the view as if he’d been there for hours. Daniel had thought the Nishta was weakening, but its effects returned in a jolting surge. He clutched at Astarte to stop the urge to fling himself at Ba'al’s feet.

“Darkness comes, Our love.”

Astarte sighed, pressed a kiss over Daniel’s heart and rose. “I bid my dearest fair eve. May the dawn’s new light speed you to my side, Mahhib.” She exchanged a passionate kiss with Ba'al and wandered off up the pathway.

Still staring out to sea, Ba'al addressed him. “Come, Adon. We must return home. Food and rest awaits Us.”

“And then what?”

“Then? Then We sleep. Our reward for a busy day.”

“I won’t let you put me in the sarcophagus again.”

“We have given Our word, Adon. We see no need to repeat Ourselves.”

“Daniel.”

“Adon.”

“I’m _Daniel_ , dammit. Not some pretend god.”

Ba'al finally glanced at him, amusement fading into a hard stare. “And yet, you do not correct Our Lady. No. Come then, _Daniel_. We need Our bed, even if you do not.”

He pushed to his feet, hating the way the drug in his blood sent him to Ba'al’s side like a puppet. The transporter wrapped around them and deposited them in his suite. Food was laid out on a side table, warm sea air stirred the curtains, and in the distance thunder rumbled closer. Daniel stared at Ba'al’s solemn face, not even pulling away when the Goa'uld pressed their lips together and dosed him once again with Nishta.

 

 

The second day back on Tsydon followed the pattern of the first. With one exception. When he finally dragged his eyes from the door Ba'al had left by, Daniel found a small metal object sitting on his dinner plate.

Plopping onto the couch, he stared at it, possibly for hours, unwilling to touch it and confirm to his sinking heart that which he had always suspected.

In the early hours of the morning his fingers brushed the controls.

He sat, the miniature image of his body flickering amid the ignored dinner, his words designed to bring some comfort to his friends ringing hollowly in his ears.

“… this is Daniel Jackson, signing off. Bye.”

The deception fuelled an anger in him that he’d been unable to muster for his own sake.

Slowly, the anger burned through the fog that was his conscious state.

He began to plan.

 

 

The third day followed the second. Astarte’s amorous attentions increased, forcing him to refuse her, gently but sternly. When Ba'al left him that night – both ignoring the elephant in the room – Daniel forced himself to eat, then sat and examined the holo-recorder. The markings were in Goa'uld. Too easy. A flick of the switch and his message to the SGC was erased. Palming it, he went to the bath room, bathed, then under the hum of the dryers quietly recorded a new message.

Back in his room he pulled on a pair of pants and a loose shirt, tucked the recorder in the waistband and padded barefoot to the door.

Outside, his very own Rephaim guard stood to attention, surprised to see him in the depths of the night.

“I can’t sleep.” He smiled that deprecating smile that always made General Hammond cave and give him what he asked for. “I’d like to go for a walk.”

“Of course, Adon.” The one in charge was a tall, good-looking youngster. “May I suggest—”

“I’d just like to wander around, if that’s okay? Let my thoughts settle.” He headed off without waiting for a reply.

Like good little soldiers, they followed. His route was meandering, up and down empty echoing corridors, pausing sometimes to look at ponds or tapestries, retracing his steps here and there. Eventually he returned to his suite, nodded goodnight to the Rephaim, stripped off and curled up in bed.

Face pressed into the pillows, those he was sure were watching failed to see the fleeting smile as he recalled exactly how many people worked in the communications centre on the night shift.

 

 

The next night he faked restlessness and once again took his guard for a walk. He selected a different route, but covered most of the corridors travelled the previous night. Staff working in several offices acknowledged him as he wandered past.

Daniel gave thanks that working for a System Lord meant nothing was hidden, and doors were always open.

 

During the day, Astarte was becoming more possessive and he found himself giving in to her, bit by bit, spending more time closeted in her bedroom, lying by secluded shrines, her body wound around his, teasingly refusing kiss after kiss.

 

 The fourth night of his nocturnal wanderings Ba'al had questioned his restlessness, offering a sedative. Daniel let the Nishta guide his reassurances and Ba'al had left, happy that his guest was content.

Anger churned into hate. Three hours later, Daniel began his walk, the precious recorder pressed between his waistband and his skin.

It took an hour before his meandering brought him to the hallway where the comm centre lay. Keeping his pace slow and steady, he passed one, two, three doors. A slight angle in his direction, and he ambled through the fourth door, hands behind his back as if nothing were happening.

There were five people working at the consoles, several tele-balls active. Only one woman noticed him enter and she was engaged in a conversation through one of the balls. Expression bland, Daniel quickly found an empty, active console, slipped the recorder out, activated and inserted it in the right slot before he caught the sound of his guard approaching. Coordinates – carefully rehearsed from those memorised as part of his duty as a frontline unit member – came automatically to his fingertips. Entered,

“Adon?”

\- hit Scramble,

“Adon….”

\- hit Transmit,

“Can I assist, Adon?”

“You should not be here, Adon.”

\- transmission complete. Eject recorder, drop it on the floor and smash it with a chair leg.

“Oh, sorry.” He smiled brilliantly at Ithm, Fourth Prime in command of his guard. “Must have got turned around.” He pushed through the Rephaim and sauntered off down the corridor, accompanied by voices rising from the room behind and the hurried footsteps of the soldiers catching up.

Too easy.

 

He slammed the door on the reproachful glares of his escort and sank into a deep cushioned armchair. His hands clenched, trying to hide the shaking that was spreading through his body. Done. Mission accomplished. The message would be speeding through space, hitting first one receiver, then another, all down the line of carefully placed, hidden and scrambled Tok’ra relays until arriving at its destination – the SGC’s Alpha Site. How long it would take in real time he wasn’t sure, but he had every faith that the system set up to aid stranded SG units would eventually deliver his message to Jack and General Hammond.

It was all over bar the shouting.

He didn’t have to wait long.

 

… devouring all in haste,

Till either gorge be stuff’d or prey be gone;

 

The door snicked closed behind Ba'al. Daniel didn’t move, didn’t rise, even though the Nishta demanded he did.

“We are disappointed, Daniel.”

Booted feet strode through the deep pile of the carpets, bringing Ba'al to stand directly behind his chair.

“We gave you such trust, such freedom, and you repay Us with deception.”

A laugh of disbelief gusted out his mouth before he could stop it. “You don’t know the meaning of trust. _I_ trusted you to send that message. Since that was obviously beyond your capabilities, I did it myself.”

Ba'al struck with lighting speed, wrapped his hand around Daniel’s throat and hauled him up and back. Feet scrabbling for purchase, Daniel ineffectually clawed at the hand, his nails leaving scrapes and cuts that didn’t faze Ba'al at all. The hand tightened, cutting off his air, pressing his head painfully against the Goa'uld’s belt buckle.

“We have done all in Our power to persuade you of Our motivations. Yet none of it has convinced you.”

Black spots were exploding in Daniel’s vision. He gasped and gagged, shoving against the seat to relieve the vice on his throat.

“You see Us as only a mindless automaton of evil. Perhaps then we shall act accordingly.”

Ba'al dug his fingers under Daniel’s jaw and hauled, pulling his body up and over the chair back and flung him down on the white rug. The hold on his throat gone, all Daniel could do was suck in desperate lungfuls of air, and cough and retch it back out.

“You have seen how the Goa'uld desire a beautiful face and body. No doubt you see Us as an animal, unable to control its base urges. So be it.” He dropped to his knees, leather clad legs either side of Daniel’s hips, pinning him in place.

Eyes widening in alarm, Daniel tried to fend him off as first his glasses were taken and flung away, then his shirt was ripped open. His abused throat failed to emit more than a gurgle of protest. He twisted to one side, kicking and punching wildly, but Ba'al merely tore his shirt up the back and yanked the shredded remains away. A hand in his hair jerked his head around so far that his shoulders followed and he was flat on his back again. Ba'al’s eyes were wild, hot flashes of white drowning the host’s brown. His hands gripped the waist of Daniel’s linen pants, the flimsy things no barrier to what he could see coming.

“Don’t. Please—” he croaked. He wasn’t about to apologise for what he’d done though. “Ba'al—” 

Ba'al snarled and the strength of the Goa'uld tore the pants in two. Moving to one side he pulled them off Daniel’s legs so violently the carpet burned his skin as he was dragged with them. Desperate, he flipped over and scrabbled away, but got only as far as the coffee table before Ba'al grabbed an ankle and turned him over again. The contents of the table clattered to the floor, and Daniel grasped the little pottery dish, given to him on his first day on Tsydon, and swung it into the side of Ba'al’s head. It shattered but had no effect, and Ba'al twisted his fingers to breaking point, making him drop the remains.

The Goa'uld placed his hands on Daniel’s hips, the grip bruising and holding him still. Both of them were panting, Ba'al half-crazed, Daniel distressed, searching for the right words to get him out of this.

“What say you, _Adon_? Shall we sample this delightful body of yours?” His fingers clenched, way too close to Daniel’s shrinking manhood.

“Please,” he whispered. “I’m sorry you’re angry, but please, don’t take it out on me like this. Yes, I deceived you, but… you deceived _me_.” Oh, that was not the right way to say that.

“Do not be sorry, Daniel. You have merely reminded Us that We are descendants of evil, and therefore We hold no blame if We revert to behaviour long held in contempt. We shall take what We want of you. Because We can.”

“No!” He kicked and wriggled and hit out with every piece of training and strength he had, but the force of the Goa'uld was overwhelming.

Eyes continually white now, Ba'al fended off his blows with ease. “We grow tired of this battle,” he growled. In one crushing grip he took hold of Daniel’s genitals and squeezed.

Daniel howled, back arching, hands falling limp as agony coursed through him. “You son of a bitch, parasite….” He could only curse hoarsely as Ba'al picked him up and flung him through the air. He cried out as he landed face down on the bed, bouncing to a shuddering halt. Stunned he tried to crawl away, but Ba'al was there, one hand pinning his neck, the other dragging his legs apart.

Breath sobbed through his tortured throat. Daniel tried gamely to pull himself together, prepare for the coming assault. _You can survive this. Jack’s always said you can survive anything they do to you. Just… go away… be somewhere else… live to fight another day._

If Ba'al pressed any harder on his neck, he’d pass out. Good. He reached for the beckoning darkness, blotting out the Goa'uld’s touch on his naked skin, the clink of his belt, the hands on his ass. His face mashed into the silk covers, breath choking in gasps, he tried to turn his thoughts off and waited for it to end.

And waited… for it to start.

The hand on his neck shifted to his hair, painfully hauling his head out of the smothering quilts. Bent backwards like a bow, it was no easier to breathe. Daniel tried to get his hands under him. He jumped as Ba'al’s angry voice hissed in his ear.

“Such ease… such ease to take Our pleasure from this body. Ah, Daniel, you lead Us down the path of Our own destruction. We could do this and never regret the action. But We would be breaking a promise to one We hold dearer than Our life. We will not let you do that to Us.” He released Daniel’s hair with a shove that collapsed him back onto the bed.

Before he could look up, the silk cover engulfed him. Ba'al rolled him so tightly in the material he could hardly move, his hands were crushed into his ribs and his aching groin was trapped between his legs. Then the world tilted as Ba'al threw him over his shoulder. There was a jolt of displacement, then he was falling, met by a hard floor that bruised everything that wasn’t already bruised.

Ba'al’s feet thudded away from him.

Dazed and hurting, Daniel lay cocooned until exhaustion finally relieved his misery.

 

What follows more she murders with a kiss.

 

Sleep gave gentle ground to a fuddled half-waking. Sounds, an indeterminate echo of music, teased at his ears and drew his senses into working order. Daniel shifted, sighed. Memory of his last conscious experience returned in confused flashes.

 _Dream. Bad dream… Message. Got the message out… Ba'al…._

Snatches of pain and panic darted past his closed eyes. Of its own volition his hand reached down and felt his penis and scrotum. Relief swept through him in a primal surge. _Intact. And not hurting._ Surprise brought his eyes open. He was no longer swaddled in the covering from his bed. He lay on Astarte’s bed, swaths of red anemones suspended from the high ceiling nodded over his head in the soft brush of warm air. His chest was bare but someone had at least wrapped his hips in a sarong.

Daniel swallowed, expecting pain from Ba'al’s choking grip, but there was none. In fact, he couldn’t feel any trace of Ba'al’s attack on his body. _Oh, I hope that was just a healing device._ Just the memory of violence remained and that drove him off the bed and across the room. The large doors were sealed and he turned away from them, frustrated and uncertain. _Now what?_

A table by the bed was set with food and drinks. He filled a goblet with cold water and downed it in one gulp.

“Mahhib!”

He jumped at Astarte’s exclamation, the goblet slipped from his hands and shattered on the floor.

“You wake! I sat by you for hours watching your dreams and now you have denied me the joy of your waking moments.” She came up behind him, wrapped her arms around his chest and pressed kisses into his shoulder blades.

“Don’t!” The memories of last night were too close. He jerked out of her grip and strode to the doors. A hard shove on them told him they were locked. “Can we go outside, Astarte? You said there were many more shrines to see.” He stayed facing the doors, tracing the pattern of the wood grain with his fingertips.

“Dearest Eshmun, we cannot.” She was close again; he could feel her warmth on his back.

“I’m not Eshmun,” he whispered.

Her breath ghosted over his skin, making him shiver. “No, my sweetling. But soon. My Lord promises soon you will return to me. To us.”

“I want to go outside.” As soon as he hit fresh air he would run and run, and they’d have to shoot him to stop him.

“My Lord forbids you to leave, my lettuce. Come, sit and share a kiss with me.”

“No!” He shook her off and sidled away, back pressed to the tapestry covering the wall.

A wrenching sob made him finally look at her. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She was looking from side to side, as if lost. Her hands clutched at her hair, then pulled away, long dark strands ripped out by the roots in her distress. “Mahhib…,” she wailed. She flung herself at him, mouth wide and devouring him.

He fell back, head hitting the wall as she clutched at his face; her teeth scored his lips and cheeks, forcing him to close his eyes to protect them against her wild kisses.

Daniel finally grabbed her arms and shoved her away. “Get off me,” he gasped. “God, you’re both the same.”

Astarte stared at him, horrified and unable to focus on him. Her hands tore at the sheer fabric of her dress, and in seconds shredded red pieces were drifting to the floor, and bloody welts appeared on her skin. “My flesh is your flesh,” she mumbled, not even wincing at the wounds she made. “My blood is your blood.” She threw herself at him. “Made whole with a kiss.” Her mouth fastened over his, tongue pushing urgently inside him.

Bile rose in his gut. With a cry he shoved her away and sought shelter on the far side of the room. Astarte crumpled to the floor and lay motionless. Daniel braced himself by a chair, lungs heaving, battling to get himself under control. He fully expected her attendants to come running, but the minutes stretched by and no one came. Neither did Astarte move.

 

And at his look she flatly falleth down,

For looks kill love and love by looks reviveth;

 

 _If I’ve hurt her, he really will…. Crap._

He called her name, then shuffled slowly nearer. “Astarte.” Dropping to one knee he touched her shoulder. Nothing. He pushed her over onto her back and reared up in surprise. Here eyes were wide open, moving as she drank in the sight of him, but her mouth was closed and her chest didn’t move – she was conscious but not breathing.

“Are – are you alright?”

She stared. Blinked. Failed to breathe.

“You have to breathe.” Surely even Goa'uld needed air to live. Maybe she’d swallowed her tongue. He pried her mouth open and she smiled at him. Completely unnerved, he began to get up. “I’ll go get help….”

Her hand caught his and gently pulled it to her lips. She pressed a soft kiss to his palm, then gazed up at him again, her meaning quite clear: heal me with a kiss or let me die.

 _You are insane. Ba'al deserves everything you throw at him._

The thought of Ba'al in an unforgivable rage had him back on his knees. He scooped her up and gently laid her on the bed. Hesitant and trying not to show his revulsion, he pressed his lips to hers in the lightest of kisses.

Like an evil caricature of Sleeping Beauty, she wheezed back to life. “Lay by my side, dearest.” She sunk her nails into his wrist and pulled him down next to her.

Daniel complied, unwilling to risk another, more deadly scene.

“Irshyt, my desire. Without you I cease this existence.”

Literally, it seemed. She rolled onto her side, gently tracing the planes of his face. “Forgive me for frightening you. My passion is too great for my heart, sometimes. Stay!” She aborted his attempt to roll away. “Be at ease, dear Eshmun. Do you not remember your daylight home?”

“Actually, no. No, I don’t.” Seizing an opportunity to divert her, he settled on his side, face inches from hers. “I don’t remember. Can you tell me, Astarte? Tell me about my life before. What happened to me?”

“Oh, my honeyman. You were our greatest joy, my Lord and I.” She brought his hand to her mouth, punctuating her words with kisses to his fingers. “Never before had we created such life. My Lord gave me his code of life and I bore you in this body, watched you swell and emerge from me in the pleasure of birth-pain.”

Daniel stared at her. “You’re talking about a human child – you and Ba'al created a human child.” His flesh creeped at the thought. _Harcesis. Two hosts creating a human with all their Goa'uld knowledge._

“Your beauty was unparalleled, dearest. From naked babe to manhood, all others paled in your shadow.” She laughed, caught up in the memory. “How we longed to take you to our bed, but my Lord insisted you must mature first. So we waited those long fifteen seasons. Then finally, on the day of your birth, I took you into my bower. Such sweet loving I never had known, and then my Lord Ba'al came to our loving. The passion we three shared! My fondling.” She peppered his hand with kisses, sucking in each finger with remembered ecstasy.

Daniel held still, struggling to keep his face clear of the reaction seething through him at the thought of a boy, bred by monsters for the purpose of their own pleasure. “I thought it was forbidden to give birth to a Harcesis?”

“Pfft, what use do we have for the superstitions of our kind? I loved my child, as did my Lord Ba'al, and our Eshmun lived for our love. We were so happy.”

“What happened to him?”

“You went away, love. You were only human and my Lord said a human could not withstand the power of our love.” She broke off, tears once again streaming down her cheeks. “The grief of your passing was unendurable. Even the touch of my Lord could not erase my yearning for you. My Lord said you did but sleep, and it was true! As new life returned to the land and the anemones bloomed, you rose from your sleep. Such joy!” She laughed and flung her arms around him, hugging him fiercely. “All the people of our city celebrated your return to me. The pleasures we shared that day – oh, you must remember, Irshyt!

“That season rang with our joy. We took our pleasure in every field and stream, garden and pond. Every hour the blessed sun shone we twined together and knew every intimacy. When the sun passed, so did you pass on to my Lord. The hours of the night gave him his pleasure with you. Touched by starlight he would lay you in the golden sand, on the altar of his temple, in the depths of his bed. Under my prideful gaze, my Lord shared your loving until it was time for the light to rise and send you back to me.”

Daniel stared at the curtains over the bed, thoughts churning. The harcesis must have fallen ill. Ba'al put him in the sarcophagus, then they….

“Our joy lasted until the leaves fell from the trees, and you returned to your sleep. You blessed our land with your gift, then slept until the new buds heralded your rise once more.”

A human child, bred into incestuous love, sickening and healed over and over again, made into one of the rising and dying gods of Earth’s mythology.

“How long—“ he coughed. “How long did he, I, live like that?”

“What is time to me, youngling? A year, a millennia, it is all the same when you are near.”

“But it didn’t last.”

“No.” Her voice darkened. “One day my Lord said you must sleep for a long time. He said I must put you away from my heart, but such a thing is impossible. I held you close to me, and sure as the red flowers bloomed from your blood, you have returned to me, my most beloved Eshmun.”

“Until the darkness takes me away.”

She leant over and smothered him with a kiss.

“Yes.”

O, thou didst kill me: kill me once again:

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quotes from Venus and Adonis, by William Shakespeare.


	11. Mise en Abyme

Enticing aromas of baked fish and delicately cooked vegetables wafted around Daniel’s face. Distracted, he forked the food into his mouth, his body crying out for nourishment despite the turmoil of thoughts in his head.

Darkness – in the form of Ba'al and his handy-dandy personal transporter – had taken him from Astarte and deposited him in Ba'al’s private quarters. Obviously he wasn’t going to be left alone any time soon. He glanced again at Ba'al, far on the other side of the suite, conversing with Kosharta. Ba'al had barely spoken to him since releasing him from the transporter, attending instead to a steady stream of people: Rephaim, officials, servants and Companions, coming and going about their business.

His fork scraped the plate and he sat back, replete and tired. He kept replaying Astarte’s story, conjuring images of that long dead human and the life he must have lived here. It was surreal. He flicked another glance at Ba'al, saw Kosharta departing and Helel entering. The elegant consort bowed to his master then followed him toward Daniel.

Daniel met Ba'al’s scrutiny as he approached, his expression as neutral as possible, hoping the dull thud of his heart did not betray his feelings.

“We trust you enjoyed your dinner, Adon?” He accepted Daniel’s silent glare as approval. “Our dear Helel wishes to escort you to the Payasht this eve.”

“Bathing chamber?” If there was one thing to say about this Goa'uld, he was very clean. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

“The Payasht is more than a bathing chamber, Adon.” Helel smiled and stepped forward. “It is a place of meeting, where all who live in the citadel come to refresh themselves at the end of the working ten-day. I would be honoured to introduce you to the waters. They are most invigorating.”

“Everyone?” Even an hour away from Ba'al’s oppressive presence would be welcome. “All right. Thank you, Helel.”

Helel smiled and bowed again to Ba'al. Daniel rose and followed him to the door, not once looking at Ba'al.

 

 

The Rephaim were waiting, of course. They held their same polite manner, but never once let more than ten inches separate themselves from Daniel. Helel led them through the residential wing and down a hallway Daniel hadn’t seen before. An ornate doorway led into a large, warm room lined with benches, wicker baskets dotted at intervals along them.

Helel led him to a bench and quickly shed his clothes. “You may place your garment in the basket, Adon.”

The Rephaim guard were already stripping, male and female alike. Daniel bit back a comment and pulled his sarong free, dropping it into the basket.

Helel grinned and caught Daniel’s hand. “You will enjoy the Payasht, Adon. There is much gossip to be shared.”

He drew Daniel through a wide stone arch, along a short corridor and into the most astonishing room he had yet seen in the citadel. It was huge: vaulted ceiling easily two stories high, supported by slender columns. Sparkling water filled bathing pools of all shapes, connected to each other by tiled channels and fed by tinkling waterfalls. Laughter, shouts and the hum of at least a hundred people filled the air, accompanied by pleasant background music. Daniel spied several harpists and lute players wandering among the greenery, which lined many of the pools. At the far end of the room, arched windows gave on to a wide balcony, and beyond the evening sky, darkening with thunderheads over the sea.

Helel splashed into one of the tiled channels, pulling Daniel along, the Rephaim following a discrete distance away. They were greeted enthusiastically in each pool by humans and Goa'uld alike. Rank and stature seemed to hold no sway here. Consorts chatted with servants, Rephaim swam next to palace officials, everyone mixing and gossiping happily. Daniel looked, but couldn’t see Astarte. Good. A huge splash brought his attention back as Helel dove head-first into a deep pool close to the open windows.

“Adon. Come, join our water!” Mavet, one of Ba'al’s Concubines called up to him, sending a playful splash at Helel. A number of the Court were here, lying along the stone edging of the pool, their naked bodies glistening in the flickering light of the many lamps hung suspended by long brass chains from the ceiling.

Daniel moved down the wide steps and submerged himself in the warm, effervescent water. Scents of lavender and rosemary rose in the steam, and welcome relaxation seeped into his skin. He ducked his head, surfaced and paddled slowly along, acknowledging the welcome of the others but refusing to be drawn into their conversations. He found a little cul-de-sac, out of the hubbub and reach of playful splashes. A tiled bench ran two feet under the surface, and he sat, letting his head rest amid the lilies along the edge.

His eyelids drooped and he gave in to the warmth of the water, closing out the sight of people strolling, bathing and gossiping.

 

 

A hand on his shoulder made him start badly, for one horrible moment he thought it was Ba'al, coming again to rape him. He hit out, floundered and realised he was in the water as he slid off the bench.

“Adon, forgive me!” Prize bobbed in the water in front of him. “I apologise for waking you.”

“Prize…. Oh. Sorry, did I hit you?” He scrubbed the water out of his eyes.

“No, Adon. I thought you might like a companion. You looked lonely here. But, I could go…?”

Daniel’s first impulse was to send the Goa'uld away, but he shook his head and indicated the bench. He looked out at the Payasht and realised there were even more people gathering. Servants were passing out goblets of wine and platters of food were set up on the sides of the pools. He frowned as several of the Companions refused offered food.

“Our Lord looks quite happy tonight.”

“He’s here?” Daniel straightened up.

“He arrived some time ago. See there?” Prize pointed to a cluster of Rephaim, Resheph and Ba'al at their centre, all laughing at some story told by one of the guards.

“Great.” His own guards reclined nearby, a silent reminder he couldn’t wander freely any more. He settled back, determined to enjoy the water while he could.

Presently, Ba'al left his guards and wandered from pool to pool, greeting, kissing and hugging his subjects while slowly and surely coming closer to Daniel’s little sanctuary. With the Goa'uld only one pool away, Daniel slid off the bench and breaststroked out into a connecting pond, making his way under the arches and out onto the balcony, which held a snaking river-like pool, ten feet wide and bending the length of the citadel.

Lightning jagged through the sky for brief seconds, illuminating the boats in the harbour below, before the night once again swallowed the scene. Daniel selected a spot on one of the bends and hoped the darkness would shield him from Ba'al.

No such luck. Ten minutes later the Goa'uld himself, in all his nude glory, cruised into view, guided by the ever helpful Prize.

“Aha! Here he hides, Our handsome Adon. Is this not the most splendid way to spend an evening?” Ba'al grinned at Daniel’s glare. “Our thanks, dear Prize.” He sank onto the seat next to Daniel and pulled Prize close. “Let Us reward Our Concubine….” He bent Prize to him and kissed him soundly, keeping eye contact with Daniel the whole time.

When he finally pulled away, Ba'al ran his hands over Prize, blatantly groping his body under the water. “We do believe the time has come to award this one with his true name. What shall We call him, Adon?”

“Oh, my Lord honours me greatly,” cried Prize. He writhed under Ba'al’s touch, accepting another passionate kiss.

“It’s not for me to give or take anybody’s name.” _Nor should it be your choice._ Daniel looked away, bitterness welling up in him.

“Hmm. We shall give the matter serious consideration.” Ba'al released the younger Goa'uld. “Leave Us now. We have matters We must discuss with the Adon.”

Prize slipped away, flushed and beaming with joy. Silence settled over the two of them, heightened by the noise coming from the bathing chamber. No one else was in the balcony pools. Daniel turned around, surreptitiously sliding away from Ba'al. He folded his arms on the edge of the pool and gazed into the night.

“Are you giving up?” he asked. “You said you can’t get any more information out of my head. The sarcophagus is not an option. What else are you going to try?”

Ba'al chuckled softly. “You know Us well, Daniel. We never give up. Our plans are proceeding as they should.”

“You’ll never get the rest of the System Lords to follow you. All you’ll do is set the whole galaxy on fire. You’re as crazy as she is.”

Ba'al stood abruptly and leaned over him, arms braced either side of Daniel’s. “We will thank you to speak of Our Lady with respect.” He huffed a breath in Daniel’s ear, then resumed his seat. “You spoke with her about Our Eshmun.”

Thunder cracked overhead. The night air was filled with energy, on the brink of breaking loose.

“You bred a harcesis, something banned by your own kind. You turned him into a parody of yourselves, kept him alive for… I don’t know how long, strung out on the sarcophagus. It’s barbaric. Obscene.”

“Two thousand, seven hundred and eight years.” Ba'al leant his head back. “That is how long he lived. Born on the shores of Sidon, Our home on your planet; died and buried here, in his mountain temple. Shall We tell you the full story, Daniel? You leap to judgements so quickly. Your opinion may change.”

“ _Your_ version, you mean.” More lies, probably.

“Our Lady told the true story, as she knows it. However, there are always details behind the telling.

“Long ago, We were unhappy with the host body We had taken. We desired perfection and thought to create it Ourselves. We mated with Our Astarte, as you would mate with your woman, Daniel.”

“I don’t want to hear this.” Daniel slid off the seat but Ba'al grabbed his arm and forced him back. Pressed into the corner, Daniel stared at him, seething.

“We wish you to hear, Daniel.” Ba'al let his arm go but sat close, keeping him cornered. “The human child grew as Our Lady slept, and was born. Such blood…. You humans reproduce in the most difficult manner. The child was the sum of our glory – the most beautiful of all. Skin like honey, hair all curls the colour of the blackbird. Eyes like yours, a slice of the sky brought to earth. He grew strong and healthy. Astarte loved him more each day. When We deemed him of age, she brought him to Our bed.”

Daniel turned his head, revolted by the dreamy lust on the face before him.

“It may not be your custom, but for Us it is the most natural thing to taste that which We have created. The boundless delights of pure youth…. When he reached his sixteenth year We prepared to take his body for Ourselves.”

Ba'al was silent then, for long enough that Daniel’s curiosity had him looking at the Goa'uld.

“We left Our old host and entered the boy, gently as one of the Tok’ra would. We had barely begun to establish Our control when We experienced the most excruciating pain. You cannot imagine it, Daniel. We felt as if We were being dissolved by acid. We left the boy, blind in Our agony, and caused him much damage in Our terror. Imagine – poisoned by Our own creation. We returned to Our former host. He had expired but We had no choice. No other was present, save Our Lady. She placed Us in Our sarcophagus, and many hours later it revived both of us.”

Daniel blinked, processing the story. “So, that’s why breeding a Harcesis is banned. Not to stop you gaining access to the genetic knowledge of the Goa'uld, but because _you_ won’t survive. It’s just pure self-preservation?” He pinched the top of his nose, amazed once again at the arrogance of the Goa'uld. “Why did Apophis think he’d survive it?”

Ba'al gave him a fleeting smile. “It is one of the unwritten laws of Our kind, the reasons lost so far back in time that now and then one of us tests the boundaries of those laws. And when faced with the results, we find ourselves unwilling to share our humiliation.”

“Okay…. What are the other unwritten laws?” Despite himself, Daniel’s curiosity was engaged.

“Never begin an action that you do not intend to see to completion.” Ba'al slid closer to him, their bare thighs brushing together. “We shall tell you the rest of the tale of Eshmun.”

Daniel tried to move away from Ba'al’s touch, but pinned in the corner of the pool, he couldn’t. Ba'al’s hand touched his chest and pressed him back against the smooth tiles. “Stay, Daniel.” A soft caress of his skin raised the hairs on the back of Daniel’s neck.

“When we arose, We found Our poor child dead in the arms of his mother. His beauty was ravaged, torn by Our own desire to live. Never had We felt such guilt, Daniel. Astarte’s grief was overwhelming. I can still see her, rocking his body in her arms, drenched in his blood. We knew We must revive him, atone for Our misjudgement, our—arrogance.

“However, too much time had elapsed for the sarcophagus to revive him under normal circumstances.” He darted a glance at Daniel. “Death is sometimes beyond its ability to heal. It was fortunate that We knew a great deal about the machine’s capabilities.”

“I thought the Goa'uld just used what they took from others. You never seem the type to take engineering to heart.” And that brought up a question Daniel had never considered before. Who did invent the sarcophagus?

“Do you remember nothing of what you have learned here in Tsydon? We are not like other Goa'uld. We seek knowledge, to understand and learn from not only Our land and Our people, but the tools We employ – this is a desire that drives Our life.

“We adjusted the settings of the sarcophagus in the hopes a less powerful healing delivered over a prolonged time would achieve Our desires. And it did, Daniel. After a ten-day the machine released its hold on Our child, and he rose, as fresh and beautiful and alive as ever he had been.”

Daniel winced at the thought of lying in the sarcophagus for days on end.

“Our joy returned, Daniel. We had atoned for Our error and Our Lady was ecstatic. We took Our child to Our hearts and returned to Our lives. Our punishment was not complete, however. Our bliss was short lived. Within a season, Our child began to fail. Before death could claim him again, We laid him down once more in his sarcophagus. This time We set it to tend him for the full winter season, and when warmth returned to the land, so did Our child rise to life. Our people celebrated his return with Us, and We named him Eshmun – Giver of Life.

“So began the pattern of our lives. For a third of the year, Eshmun slept. He rose in the spring and as summer faded he would sleep once more.”

Daniel shook his head, trying hard to process the story. “But he was human. Repeated use of the sarcophagus, even on low power, must have driven him mad.”

Ba'al nodded. “As you seem to have discovered yourself, madness can take a human, unless there is injury for the machine to heal. Thus, We were forced to take Eshmun’s lifeblood before delivering him to his rest.”

“You killed him,” Daniel said quietly.

“Not quite. We let his blood until only the thread of life remained. In fact, as the practice became commonplace, it grew into a ritual, and Our people saw the importance We placed on Eshmun’s rising, and joined Us in Our celebrations and Our grief. His gift – his blood and seed – were a blessing on Our land and it has ever prospered because of him.”

“That—that’s….” Monstrous was the only suitable world.

“Moving. Yes,” Ba'al blithely finished for him. “There was one unforseen result. Our Lady loved Eshmun so deeply, he became her sole focus in life. As the years progressed, she became obsessed, demanding he spend every second in her arms. It was unhealthy – for both of them. We were forced to demand Our share of his favours. We decreed Eshmun could spend only the sunlight hours with Astarte, and he must come to Us while darkness lay upon the sky.

“In time, even that was insufficient. She would follow him to Our chamber, sit in the dark watching as We sought pleasure in his body, even just as We slept. We began to fear for him. We could not leave him alone with her. Many times We took him on campaign, exposed him to danger in order to protect him from his mother’s love.

“It was not enough. Her grief at his dying grew each year. She was in misery all the long cold months. We began to fear for her.” Ba'al fell silent, staring out at the flickering lightning.

Daniel blinked, and tried to focus – not easy as the air was oppressive with heat and the threat of rain. “What happened? She said he died a final time.”

“We were careless. We saw the evidence on his body, how her love was harming him. She was so desperate in her need to keep him alive, yet she took so much from him. In the end We had to cease Our own pleasure with him, to ensure he had strength enough for her. And never did he complain. He lived to be with her. Serving her, and Ourselves, was all he ever wanted. He was a good boy.

“One night he did not come to Us. We went to Our Lady’s temple, but the priests said she had taken him on a picnic and not returned. We were desperate, sure ill had befallen them. We ran through the forests, searched all her favourite places. Finally We found them. They lay in a grove of trees, high up on the hill. You know the one.”

Daniel’s eyebrows rose. He had a creepy feeling it was the grove Astarte had taken him to many times, where a spring bubbled in a shrine to Eshmun. Where she had appeared and disappeared while he lay drowsing with the Companions. Foreboding filled him. “What did she do?”

“Her only crime was loving too deeply. She… she had torn him, in the craze of her desire. His manhood ripped from him.” Ba'al closed his eyes. “They lay in a lake of his blood, he already dead, she unable to comprehend why he would not wake.

“We realised then that it must end, for her sake. We carried Eshmun to the temple We had built for him, roused the priests and the people. We told them Eshmun had blessed us with his greatest gift and that blessing would serve us for all time. Their grief and joy was consuming, and We laid him to his final rest. Our Lady did not remember what had happened. She continued to wait for his return and We indulged her in that belief. It took many, many years, but she gradually returned to herself.” The bitterness in his voice gave way to sad acceptance, and Ba'al slumped back next to Daniel, drained by the memories.

 _No wonder she’s unhinged._ “She thinks I’m him.”

“Yes. After We resurrected you from the travel sleep, Our priests began to spread stories of Eshmun’s return. Then your dramatic ‘appearance’ in the Bodashtart river fuelled more speculation, and Our Lady became convinced her love had returned. There was little We could say to dissuade her. Fear not, Daniel, you will not share Eshmun’s fate.”

Daniel glanced at him as thunder tore the sky apart, and rain began to pelt down.

 _That doesn’t make me feel any better._

 

 

Daniel paced from one tapestried wall to another, through sheer red curtains drifting like a butterfly’s kiss in the barely perceptible breeze. From one side of Astarte’s chamber to the other, circling the bed in the middle. He was bored. Frustrated. Uncertain. Mostly bored. And hungry.

Hours ago, Ba'al had woken him, nishta’ed him, wrapped him in his personal transporter and deposited him in Astarte’s chamber. Then he left, all without a word. Astarte was absent and hours later still hadn’t appeared. He could hear voices intoning and periodical snatches of music from the temple, so he could only assume she was there, doing whatever goddesses did.  The only thing set out for him was a pitcher of cider, and that was mostly gone now.

So he paced and stretched, brought his muscles tingling to life while he thought over the two stories of Eshmun’s life and demise, and wondered what Ba'al’s next step would be. Clearly the scanning was no longer an option, but he didn’t think for a minute Ba'al had given up his quest for what lay buried in his head.

Daniel paused, staring at the person reflected in Astarte’s enormous mirror. _Is that me?_ He pushed his glasses up his nose; the reflection did the same. _Guess so._ His hair was shaggy, much longer than he’d had it for years. His skin glowed with a healthy tan from Tsydon’s sun, but it was stretched over ribs and hipbones and his cheekbones were sharper in a face that looked strained and weary. At least he’d scored some pants today: fine linen in blue that shaded down the legs to deep green.

He sank to the floor, comfortable on an inches-thick rug, and leant against the bed. He was beginning to understand what it was Ba'al sought. He didn’t know all the implications, but it could be good… or it could be spectacularly bad.

 

The doors being flung open to admit a flood of hushed chatter brought Daniel out of his doze. He clambered to his feet, blearily focusing on Ba'al’s Companions, all gathered by the door. Beyond them, the temple was oddly quiet. Daniel walked to the door, taking in the Court members’ dress. Their fine pants, skirts, and scarves were all in the same shadings of sea green and blue.

“What’s going on?”

Many of them glanced at him and smiled but did not answer. He looked past them, surprised to see the temple empty of priests, eunuchs and worshippers.

“Helel?”

Helel wasn’t looking at him. His head bowed, he stepped back as first Astarte then Ba'al moved toward him. Ba'al’s expression was closed off, only his eyes betrayed a twinkle of anticipation. Astarte—she looked like she’d been doing the good drugs. She floated along, her body not at all concealed by the gossamer fabrics drifting around her limbs. Her hair sparkled with diamonds, sapphires and emeralds.

She halted in front of Daniel, silently savouring every inch of his body. She caught up his hand and kissed his knuckles, then came a step closer, dipped her head and breathed the barest of kisses on his naked chest, right over his heart.

Realisation flooded Daniel’s senses and it was far too late to pull away. Astarte smiled up at him; more pink-tinged misty breath seeped from her lips and soaked into his skin.

 _No, not this again._ His blood surged in his veins, firing every nerve ending to exquisite awareness, scattering his thoughts and leaving only base, primal urges gnawing at every fibre of his being. He gasped and locked eyes with Ba'al. Now he knew. Now he understood. Goa'uld like Ba'al and Seth used their Nishta to control and dominate their subjects, but those like Astarte and Hathor – the queens – used it to gain total possession of a man.

She touched his face and he drowned in her gaze, lost, willing to do anything for her, even die, right here, right now. She blessed him again. He shuddered, unable to move yet desperate to wrap her in his arms, feel every part of her body against his. She took his hand, turned and followed Ba'al, Companions falling into line behind them.

Blind with desire, Daniel let himself be led into the dark.

 

 

They left the deserted temple by a small back door. Out into the warm night air, they walked down a gravel path through the press of ferns and flowered bushes. At a bend in the path, under the overhang of water-beaded rocks, several Companions moved ahead and took torches from a stand, lit them into flame and led the way. Down they went, the path gave over to bare rock, worn into steps by the passage of many feet. Plant life clung to cracks in the rocks and the air grew cool with contained moisture.

Time meant little in the shifting light of flame and shadow. The downward spiral halted and Daniel found himself stepping onto a narrow stone bridge, the crash of the Bodashtart river underneath. Astarte led him on, the press of other bodies close about them. Over the bridge, down narrow stone steps, paralleling the swollen torrent of the river, her hand in his, guide and comfort. His other hand brushed the wide balustrade, cool stone blocks covered in damp moss that caught in his fingernails. At their feet, painted figures and faces rose and receded with every step, colours picked out in blood red; haunted, lost faces stared up at him.

 

 

On she drew him into the dark, anonymous people pressed close, the roar of the river blended with a reverent murmuring chant from the Goa'uld around him.

Now they halted at the foot of a giant gate, its black curling metal standing open, giving access to the earth itself. Strong hands on his shoulders encouraged him on. Unnecessary – he would follow her until the fire in his blood burned him to cinders.

Again they descended, into a place of warmth, laden with aromas like the germination of life; it was the womb of the world.

Through a pair of towering golden gates, they arrived in a large cavern. Ornate crystal chandeliers hung alive with candlelight. Enormous stumps of ancient trees carved into seats and benches lurked in the shadows surrounding a dark, still pool of water. Ferns and moss grew over its rocky sides and spread up over a smooth boulder, which stood at the centre of the cavern.

The Companions spread out, setting torches into wall sconces, closing and chaining the golden gates, all the while chanting steadily. Tasks completed, they began to disrobe, then came to Ba'al and Astarte, and helped them out of their clothing. Daniel’s breath hitched. Unable to pull his eyes away from Astarte’s luscious body, his heart began to pound when hands touched him, slipping his pants down and taking his glasses. All he could do was stand before her, his desire obvious and humiliating, for unlike the Nishta of Ba'al, which left his head a confused muddle, the breath of Astarte took ownership of his body and left his mind in perfect order.

She smiled, a slow, predatory gloat, and kissed him hard on the mouth. Then hands took his arms, turned him away from her, and guided him up the smooth steps to the top of the boulder. Bright steel chains glinted on the dark rock. He tried to pull away, to refuse, but they pressed him to his knees and he knew he was lost. Manacles were fastened over his ankles, others just below his knees, pinning him to the rock. Hands pushed him down to sit on his heels, then pressed him further until his chest rested on his thighs, and his chin on a groove in the rock. His arms were extended out from his body and locked down, and then a final band of cold metal slipped over his neck and held his head as immobile as his body.

His custodians left him alone on the rock, able only to breathe shallowly and stare down at the people gathering in a circle around the pool. Nude bodies gleamed in the candlelight, eyes closed they knelt and settled, Ba'al and Astarte at the head of the pond. The chanting cut off. For long nervous moments he watched as each of them bowed, their foreheads touched the damp rock. Suddenly Ba'al retched, a near silent shudder wracked his body, then again and then something appeared in his mouth. It—wriggled. He heaved again and Daniel let out a choked moan of horror as the parasite – the snake inside the host – slid out onto the stone. It squealed and reared up, lashing its tail, beady red eyes stared first at Astarte, then up at Daniel.

Beside him Astarte began to retch and produced the real Astarte in a slick pool of mucus. With the two of them out, the Companions began to gag up their Goa'uld. In no time fourteen Goa'uld squirmed and hissed in the open air, their host bodies remained still, unresponsive, probably drugged.

 _This is one story the guys back home will never believe._

Daniel tried to avert his eyes, but bound as he was he couldn’t look away, and self-preservation kept his gaze glued to the reptiles. _I thought she was going to mate with me, but this is way beyond what Hathor did._

His thoughts froze as Ba'al and Astarte reared up, neck frills flaring and turned to face him. With astonishing speed, small wings unfurled from their torsos and the two shot into the air, up and over his head. They landed on Daniel’s bare back, making him cry out and jerk futilely at his restraints. The Goa'uld hissed and spat, and writhed their cold scaly bodies over his skin.

“Get off, get off, for the love of all that is holy, get off me,” he snarled, scared witless, sure now that he was going to lose his body to one of them. Both? Was that possible?

The writhing was settling down into a sinuous rubbing, one was coiling around the small of his back, the other up over his shoulder blades, sibilant noises tickling his left ear. Its tail seemed to be caressing his skin, comforting him?

A hopeless snicker escaped him. “I might not be able to stop you, but I promise you this, I will make your life a never ending hell. I will fight you every second of every day and I will _never_ rest. You will regret ever taking me, and my friends will hunt you down and kill you – even if they kill me too, and I’ll thank them for it” He heaved in a gasp of air, prepared for what was about to happen. “Do your worst. I _know_ the host survives.” His hands clenched, nails cutting into his palms, fine tremors running through him.

The snake on his shoulder squirmed gently. _It’ll be that one_. He stared at the Goa'uld below him, sitting up, weaving their heads in the air as they stared back at him. _Why is the other one there?_

Waited….

Something sharp pierced his skin, not at his nape as expected but into his back, below his waist. Agony speared through his spine, up to his head and out along his nerves.

Daniel screamed.

Another pain stabbed at him, in the same place. He sobbed and swore, bitting his tongue as he ground his teeth against the fire building in his back. _Is it in?_ _Shit, I can’t feel it._ Desperate to retain his self awareness for as long as he had left, he tried to think of his friends, knowing the next time he saw them they might be trying to kill him. He pictured Jack, looning around on the Nandi homeworld, Sam and Teal'c surrounded by pint-sized wonderful people.

His pained breaths puffed out of his mouth. Dimly, he realised the agony was fading. _Oh god, is that it – taking control?_ He tried to focus, felt the one on his neck… and the other on his hip. _What? It’s still outside me…._ Yes, there it was, uncoiling, sliding up his back, its tail tickling his ribs. He felt it reach the one on his neck, tangling together and squeaking like a dog’s chew toy. The two Goa'uld slid to his shoulder, then slithered off and plopped onto the rock next to his face.

He tensed again, and hurt his eyes trying to focus on them. They stopped for a moment, staring back at him. One had a bulbous appendage on its torso, a shiny sac that looked like it contained fluid. They took flight, making him start yet again. They landed near the pool, already twining together.

Morbidly fascinated, he watched the bulbous sac be absorbed into the Goa'uld’s body. When it was gone the other Goa'uld extended its own appendage, obviously phallic with a wicked pronged head. It entered the first Goa'uld – had to be Astarte – through the sac’s opening. Joined, the two tied themselves together in knots and began to roll and thrash over the rock and into the water, churning it to foam in their frenzy.

This appeared to be a signal for the Companions to begin their own orgy. Daniel froze, expecting another attack, but the twelve snakes went at each other, hissing, biting, flaring frills, until they were one hopelessly tangled ball. Relieved, confused, revolted and nauseous from the pain in his back, Daniel watched helplessly as the snake ball rolled around the pool edge – a bizarre guard over the two mating with unabated fervour in the water.

 

 

The night dragged on, one agonising second at a time. His legs were long since numb, so were his arms. The puncture on his back throbbed in unending misery. He still felt sick, but as he hadn’t eaten in over thirty hours, fortunately there was nothing to come up. And there was an annoying itch on his left shoulder blade that just wouldn’t go away.

On the bright side, his wholly unnatural arousal had vanished, probably the instant Astarte had sunk her fangs or whatever into his spine.

Daniel checked to see what was happening below. Yep, still at it. He sighed and shut his eyes. Unfortunately, his brain wouldn’t shut off. He’d initially thought Astarte had wanted his DNA to create a new batch of symbiotes, but swiftly rejected the idea. Hathor had picked him because he was there at the time. Astarte had a whole planetful of men lining up to deliver their offering in her temple.

This whole night screamed ‘ritual’ to him. Only Ba'al and Astarte were mating – the others looked like they were playing… or wrestling. If Ba'al and Astarte mated in such elaborate circumstances, he’d bet it was for something of more significance than Jaffa. Teal'c had once told him the symbiotes bred for Jaffa were infertile, which made a lot of sense. Why create an army who could in turn breed and build their own armies.

 _They really are like queen bees…._ Hathor flashed into his mind, cold eyes fixed on his, her mouth swallowing him, the vicious jaws of the true Hathor emerging from that mouth, stealing his seed and self respect in one swallow…. _Forget her. Focus. Queens produce infertile drones for Jaffa. They take years to mature and either become a minor Goa'uld, serving a System Lord, or are killed and eaten. And the queens mate with one of the host species. Not her own kind._

Ba'al and Astarte were still writhing in the water, slower now but not showing signs of stopping.

 _She’s mating with him and she’s got my DNA as well._ She had to have taken his cerebrospinal fluid in that sick parody of a lumbar puncture. _So, mating with Ba'al and carrying human DNA produces what? A fertile Goa'uld?_

 _Oh, boy._

 _I think you’re in really deep shit now, Danny boy._

 _?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mise en Abyme - from the French, meaning 'Placing into the abyss'


	12. Plans Afoot

It was rush hour at the SGC. 1130 hours and already SG-8 and 14 had returned to base, SG-10 had departed on their next mission, SG-16 and 11 were gathering in the ready room and Gateroom, preparing to head out.

Jack was hovering, getting in a little practice intimidating the newbies on Fisher’s 11, while waiting for Teal'c to gate home with 5. He’d been gone four days, assisting on first contact with a group of former Jaffa hiding out on a pretty little moon. They had long ago fled Goa'uld service when their ‘god’ Bastet lost a major battle, and Teal'c was keen to gain their support for the Free Jaffa movement.

“Perkins. There is such a thing a being too prepared,” Jack said. The guy was a seasoned lieutenant, Iraq vet, highly commended and trained, about to head off on his first full-fledged mission. He was buttoned down so tight he could barely breathe. Jack reached into the man’s personal space and unzipped his jacket two inches. “Relax! You’ll do fine.”

“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir.” Perkins managed a fleeting smile, then began checking his gear all over again.

 _Way to go intimidating the guy. You’re losing your touch, Jack._

He ambled out of the ready room and back to the Gateroom. _Daniel’s rubbing off on me._ He stepped around an outbound MALP and an inbound FRED loaded down with the spoils of 14’s mission, vainly trying to shake the urge to glance over his shoulder, driven by the annoying sense that something was missing.

 _Damn right he’s missing._ Daniel should be here, getting in the returning teams’ way, firing questions at them like a verbal Gattling gun, chasing down the outbound teams and making sure for the fourteenth time they knew the correct words to say for ‘take me to your leader’ or ‘which way is the latrine?’.

A dull clunk announced the Stargate’s activation. The claxons went off again – Jack was so used to the noise he barely registered it. Seven chevrons lit and the wormhole blew into the Gateroom. He hung out behind the 50 Cal. and glanced up at the control room.

“IDC received, SG-5 inbound,” Walter declared with a nod to Jack.

The iris spiralled open and soon Harvey, Peddington, Florence and Linley were tromping down the ramp, Teal'c in the rear, watching his team’s six as usual. The big satisfied smile on his face was pretty unusual. Sergeant Weston hollered out a ‘stand down’ to his squad of Gate guards, and Jack slipped into the clearway and grinned at his Jaffa.

“T! How’d it go?”

“Our meeting was most productive, O'Neill.” Teal'c dipped his head in greeting.

Lt. Colonel Linley stopped next to Jack. “Looks like the Senusi people will be happy to join the Free Jaffa, sir,” she said.

“Sweet. Good work, Colonel, men, T.” He nodded to each and sent them on their way, falling into step with Teal'c.

“What news of Daniel Jackson, O'Neill?”

“Well, the Carters have been gone six days now, trying to contact Boch. He keeps missing appointments. Carter thinks he’s trying to blow them off, but they’re staying until they pin him down.”

A low, thoughtful grumble came from Teal'c. “That behaviour does not seem to match the character of the man we met originally.”

“No, it’s all a bit weird. But, he’s our best chance at finding a way onto Ba'al’s home world, so we’ll stick at it for now.”

“Perhaps Bra’tac—”

Claxons blared out, followed by the Master Sergeant’s declaration of “Unscheduled offworld activation.”

Jack and Teal'c shared a glance and as one, reversed course and jogged up the steps to the control room. Hammond was halfway down the circular staircase.

“Confirming IDC from the Alpha Site, sirs.”

Eyebrows rose all over the room. “Open the iris, sergeant.” Hammond looked at Jack, both realising this would be something important.

The woman who stepped out of the Stargate strode down the ramp and headed for the C-2 door. Major Toveson was 2IC of the Alpha Base, career Air Force and a fine soldier. They met her at the top of the stairs.

“General, Colonel, Teal'c.” She nodded to each in turn. Before anyone could respond, she went on. “I have a message, sirs. From Doctor Jackson.”

 

Jack sank into a briefing room chair, torn between admiration that Daniel – kidnapped and held captive by the Goa'uld – could manage to get a message through, and astonishment that he obviously had done just that. _Whys and wherefores can wait._ His fists clenched with impatience as Toveson activated the player as fast as she could. Hammond took the chair beside him, but Teal'c hovered standing behind them, concern radiating from him.

A holographic image sprang up over the table, twelve inches high, crisp and clearly portraying Daniel.

Relief gusted out of Jack’s lungs. “He’s alive,” he muttered. More than the glimpse of his blue eyes in Yu’s throne room, here was real proof Daniel lived and breathed. He stood naked and wet, his hair stirred by moving air. He focused out of the image, directly meeting Jack’s eyes.

“This is Daniel Jackson, SG-1. Please relay this report to General Hammond or Colonel O'Neill as soon as possible.” He spoke softly, but precisely.

“Ah, well, as you can see I’m alive. I was kidnapped from Earth by Aris Boch, under the orders of the Goa'uld, Ba'al.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Did he say Aris Boch?” Jack bellowed, drowning Daniel out.

Toveson hit pause on the player, rewound and replayed.

“Boch is dead,” was all Jack could manage.

Daniel had also paused, then added. “Don’t be too hard on him, Jack. It was a business deal and I got the impression he was remorseful. Anyway, I’m being held on Ba'al’s home planet, Tsydon. I’ve been treated well. Mostly. So far.”

Jack didn’t like those qualifications Daniel was making.

“Ba'al started off insisting he’d brought me here to help broker a peace treaty between all the Goa'uld and Earth.” He crooked an ironic eyebrow. “Yeah, I didn’t believe that either. Then the story changed, he needed knowledge from me that would help him face the threat Anubis poses, and bring ever lasting peace to the galaxy. He says he’s working with two other Goa'uld, one of whom is Osiris. Apparently. No name on the second one though. It could be Zipacna – he paid a visit here a few weeks ago.” Daniel’s lips curled up, amused at something.

“But I don’t think it’s him. Or Yu. The Goa'uld, Yu. I am eighty percent sure he has no interest in Earth. He hasn’t asked anything about us. What he is interested in is other Goa'uld, specifically ones I have had contact with. He’s… Jack, you remember Aunt Bertha and her magic doodad? Ba'al has one that’s naquada powered.” Daniel stared hard at Jack for a moment, willing him to get the reference. Jack nodded and as if his friend could see him, Daniel nodded back and continued.

“You remember my stepson, how I found out about him? It appears I might have found out more than I realised, from the other person in the tent.” Daniel’s forehead scrunched up with the effort of being so cryptic. “Ba'al’s doodad is uncovering memories from her and also from Sarah’s little buddy, from before she… took off. If what I think has happened, then it’s happened a couple of other times.”

He paused and glanced over his shoulder. “I really don’t know if this presents a threat to Earth. Ba'al’s ambitions are boundless. But he has always said he wants to stop the fighting and loss of life.” His eyebrows did a believe-that-if-you-want dance. “Ba'al is very different from other Goa'uld. He’s got a sense of honour, at least in regard to his personal life. He seems to genuinely care about the welfare of the humans living here. Whether that extends outside this planet, I really don’t know. And his consort, well, main consort – could even be a queen – er, ah, yeah, she likes me. She’s also completely fruit loops.

“General, I’m not begging for rescue. I don’t particularly want to stay here, but every person on this planet adores Ba'al. I’ve had no luck finding anybody sympathetic enough to help me escape. If pressed, I think they’d fight to the death for him. I can’t ask you to risk our people. I don’t know where the Stargate is. There is a spaceport, miles from the citadel. His fleet is in orbit too, I think. Lately he’s been keeping me drugged on Nishta…, not at the moment, but he’ll do it again. It seems to affect me a lot like Seth’s did – you know, that resistance is useless kinda thing.” Daniel grimaced fleetingly.

“That’s the situation. If I can, I’ll try to get in contact again, but if I manage to send this... well, he won’t be pleased. I hope Sam is okay. Oh, could someone feed my fish please?” Daniel stared at them for a moment, clearly reluctant to end the one-way contact. “Okay. Daniel Jackson, signing off.” He reached out and the image faded away to nothing.

 

They sat there in silence, staring at the holo-player. Jack tried to accept that Daniel was gone again. Seeing him, hearing his familiar voice, it was so easy to believe Daniel was just reporting in from a mission, and would be home in time for supper.

Hammond was shaking his head in wonder. “Doctor Jackson is a remarkable man.”

Teal'c finally stirred and moved to sit next to Jack, casually brushing his shoulder in welcome support. “Indeed he is.”

Hammond turned to Toveson. “Major, how did you receive Doctor Jackson’s message?”

“Sir, it came through the Tok’ra listening array. There were no security codes prefacing the message, but it did have the SG team emergency SOS. Colonel Fields authorised its opening. As soon as we saw the content, he ordered me to bring it to Base. He’s trying to trace its original coordinates, sir.”

“Very well, major. Thank you. Feel free to freshen up and requisition any supplies you need before you head back to the Alpha Site.”

Hammond dismissed Toveson, then looked at them. “Teal'c, do you know the location of this planet, Tsydon?”

“I regret, I do not.”

“But Aris Boch does. I can’t believe he’d betray Daniel like that,” Jack growled. Permission to go beat the crap out of Boch, sir?”

“Granted,” Hammond muttered. “But first, recall Major and General Carter. They need to be briefed on Doctor Jackson’s report. Then I’m authorising you to take SG-2 and use whatever means necessary to secure the location of Ba'al’s homeworld from Boch.” He rose and paced over to the observation window, staring thoughtfully down at the bustle of activity around the Stargate. After several minutes, he turned back. “Furthermore, I believe it will be more expedient for SGs one and two to continue working offworld. When you get the coordinates to Tsydon from Boch, I don’t want you wasting time gating back and forth to the SGC. If you feel you can immediately proceed with Doctor Jackson’s rescue I want you to go ahead. It will be an in-field decision, Jack.”

“Yes, sir.” Jack shared a look of grim anticipation with Teal'c.

 

Three hours later the Carters had returned, and they were gathered in Jack’s office while Hammond debriefed SG-14 on their completed mission. Jack stared at Daniel’s little statue of Ra, which sat on his photo shelf and glared pugnaciously back at him.

Daniel’s message ended for the second time. Jack saw Carter reach out to Daniel, then divert the movement to scrub a hand through her hair.

“Well, that explains why Boch was doing his best to avoid us. I’m guessing Danny’s using his own code.” Jacob shook his head. “Who’s Aunt Bertha?”

Carter slid an embarrassed glance at Teal'c, who proceeded to examine the ceiling with great interest.

Jack cleared his throat. “Well, ah, it’s er… Anise, actually.”

“Anise?”

“She reminded me of someone I used to…. Don’t ask.”

Jacob grinned, and Jack knew he was filing the name away for a later conversation.

“So, the doodad is…?

“Anise’s brain-sucker thing. A version that’s way stronger if that’s what he means by naquada-powered.”

“And his stepson, Shifu? Didn’t Daniel find out about him from his wife?”

“Sha’re communicated with Daniel through the ribbon device, Dad,” Sam said. “She told him the name of the planet on which Amonet hid the child.”

“Wow, I had no idea that could be done. And Daniel thinks she passed on other information?”

“Not Sha’re – Amonet. The ‘other person in the room’,” Teal'c said. “Although, I do not believe it was intentional. If the same thing occurred with Osiris….” Teal'c paused, unusually lost for words.

“Osiris attacked Daniel with the hand-device?”

“Yeah,” Jack replied, and went back to glaring at the statue. “Put Daniel and a Goa'uld together and brain melting seems to be the first thing on the menu.”

“And it’s happened how many times?”

“Three,” Jack said curtly, ruthlessly squashing the memory of Skarra and Klorel.

“Dad, does Selmac know anything about the hand-device? Can it transfer messages from the Goa'uld as well?”

“I don’t know, honey.” Jacob frowned while he communicated internally. “Neither does Selmac. She’s just getting a vague sense of alarm. Nothing specific.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jack stood abruptly. “Whether Ba'al wants the secrets of the universe or Daniel’s recipe for Harissa tagine, we’re going to get him out. Hammond’s decided we should go ahead with the extraction as soon as we get the coordinates from Boch. Teal'c and I have put a few scenarios together. We’ll decide which way to go as soon as Boch cracks.”

Jacob rose. “We’re with you, Jack. We’ve got an appointment with Boch in four hours. We’ll get the answers out of him, no matter what.”

Teal'c stood as well, his voice like a prophet of doom. “Indeed we shall.”

“Gear up,” Jack ordered. “I’ll meet you in the Gateroom in fifteen. I’ve got a phone call to make.”

 

The call was answered on the second ring.

“Malone.” The FBI Special Agent sounded quite chirpy.

“Colonel Jack O'Neill, here.”

“Colonel, nice to hear from you. I’m just putting an update together for General Hammond. We’ve tracked down three of the suspects in Doctor Jackson’s kidnapping. We’re hoping for an arrest in the next twenty-four hours.”

“Guess it’s too much to hope that Chahine is one of them?”

“Sorry, Colonel. We haven’t managed to pin him down yet.”

“Listen, I just wanted to let you know. General Hammond advised you about the sighting of Daniel?”

“Yeah, a confirmed sighting of Doctor Jackson, somewhere overseas. Don’t suppose you’re gonna tell me where?”

“No can do. But I wanted to tell you we’re preparing for an extraction. After all the help you gave us in New York, I thought you deserved to know.”

“Really? That’s great news. I wish you the best of luck, Colonel.”

“Thanks. Of course, if you tell anyone, I will shoot you.” The humour in Jack’s voice made Malone laugh.

“Understood, Colonel. I just hope you find Doctor Jackson. We’ll keep doing our part and find the kidnappers.”

“Thanks, Malone.”

“God speed, O'Neill.”

 

Jack and his expanded team gathered in the Gateroom, each dressed in the unofficial uniform of offworld traders: long duster coats, leather trousers and vests. Next to Lou stood his 2IC, Captain Martin Roberts, a Combat Rescue Officer, whose medical and covert recovery training complimented Ferretti’s own training and experience, and would be invaluable on this mission. SMSGT* Joyce Bairnsdale, a Special Operations Weather Technician and Lt Sandy Beechworth, a Pararescueman with particularly high qualifications in anthropology rounded out the team. Between the seven SGC team members, with the addition of Jacob, they qualified, trained and equipped to handle anything that they might possibly face out in the big bad universe. They were all loaded down with enough supplies, equipment and ammunition to support an extended stay.

News of Daniel’s message and their mission had spread through the base with predictable speed. Personnel, techs, and even the medical staff had poked their heads around corners to wish them well as the eight of them made their way through the hallways.

He caught Fraiser’s gaze as she wandered into the crowd of well-wishers filling the Gateroom, dwarfed by tall marines and SFs. She was thinking the same thing, he could tell, and she’d go with them in a heartbeat. But he couldn’t justify taking her away from the rest of the units who might need her. Jack glanced over at Carter. She had a small leather bag hanging from the belt over her tunic. “What’s in the bag?”

With a glance up at the observation window, she opened it. Inside lay the gold and ruby brilliance of Kendra’s healing device. She looked up at him, defiant and hoping for approval.

“Nice.” Jack turned back to Janet and gave her a not-so-subtle wink.

The Stargate gushed into life, and General Hammond’s voice rang out. “SG-1, SG-2, you have a go. Bring our boy home.”

 

Boch arrived, finally. He kept them waiting in the back room of a tavern, well off the main street of Gaidhlig, the city in which they had first found the bounty hunter. SG-2 were loitering discreetly in the front tap room. The door closed behind Boch, and to his credit he didn’t flinch when the cold muzzle of Jack’s 9mm pressed against the back of his neck.

“Colonel O'Neill. Hardly surprising, but you weren’t invited to this meeting.”

“You have two seconds to explain why you kidnapped Daniel and sold him to the Goa'uld. Then I blow your brains out. One.” Jack cocked the pistol. The anger that had built inside him ever since Daniel’s revelation began to slide away, replaced by an icy remoteness that would see him get this job done – one way or another.

“How—well, I guess that’s not important,” Boch rattled out as the gun pressed harder. “Yes, I accepted the commission to take Doctor Jackson. He was unharmed, O'Neill. I made sure. Even Major Carter suffered no ill effects from the drug. I only took the job on the condition Doctor Jackson would not be hurt – before or after I delivered him to Ba'al. I’m sorry I did it, but I had no choice.”

“No _choice_?” Jack grabbed Boch and slammed him into the centuries-old door frame. Boch bounced off the iron-hard wood and met Jack’s fist, which punched him back against the wall. “It really is just all about the money with you.”

“Money? Boch smiled bitterly. “You think I’d hunt a good man like Doctor Jackson for _money_? Give him to the Go-A-Uld for _money_?”

“Then what?” Jack growled.

“Your son?” Teal'c’s quiet question sounded as menacing as Jack’s snarling.

Boch paused and threw the four of them a calculating stare. “Okay. I don’t have a son. Or any family being held by the Goa'uld. Normally I would never have considered taking a Hunt against someone I considered a friend. Yes, _friend_ ,” he stressed as Jack sputtered. “I wanted to test Ba'al, see if he’d meet my price. I never thought he would, but he did. And then, you see, I was in a dilemma. Do I Hunt a perfectly innocent man and hand him over to his enemy, or do I do the one thing I’m good at and get the antidote to the poison that has held my entire planet in slavery for centuries?”

“Roshna?” Carter said in the ensuing silence. “Ba'al gave you the cure for the Roshna drug?”

“Why would Ba'al do such a thing?” Teal'c asked.

“Because it was Kali who enslaved my people. Because he wanted Doctor Jackson enough to antagonise her by giving me what I asked for. Who knows? I was choiceless. Besides, it’s not like the famous Tau’ri managed to discover the antidote, even though they said they’d try.” Boch slowly fished out a small vial of orange coloured liquid. “I’ve already given it to my leaders. They’re manufacturing it and spreading it to everyone back home. I hope Doctor Jackson will understand.”

“How nice for you.” Jack spat, not wanting to acknowledge that Daniel would, and already had, forgiven Boch. “Now you’re gonna give us what we want – the address to Ba'al’s home world.”

Boch was smiling again, sincerely this time. “I’ll do better than that, O'Neill. I’ll take you there.”

 

The planning session stretched long into the night. In various stages of undress, Jacob and the combined team sprawled on the beds, chairs and floor coverings of one of the two rooms they had rented in the tavern, listening as Boch divulged everything he knew about Tsydon. The first was a surprise – no Stargate.

“How can he not have a Stargate?” Ferretti complained. “Every Goa'uld has one. Don’t they?”

“Not this one.” Boch reclined on Jack’s bed, picking over the remains of his roast… whatever dinner. “I’ve checked my contacts. All transport is done by ship – freight, people, Goa'uld, everything. The spaceport is twenty miles from the city. The electric rail pod system is the only transport into the city. Apart from the ships.”

“Al’kesh” Jacob asked, “or cargo?”

“Sailing.”

 _“Sailing?”_   Bairnsdale choked in disbelief. “You gotta be kidding.”

“Ba'al has a fleet of sailing ships, which he uses to move trade goods around the planet. He’s very proud of them. No Goa'uld ships are allowed to fly over the city.” Boch fixed Jack with a stern glare. “The only way in is to masquerade as traders, and take a ship full of goods in through the port.”

He’d been saying the same thing for ages and Jack was faced with having to believe him. “Alright. In the morning, Boch, you will arrange a ship. Buy it, hire it, steal it – I don’t care. Teal'c, Carter and Beechworth will go with you. Jacob, you, Martin, Bairnsdale and I will find a cargo we can use as our cover. Ferretti, head out to niner one zero and report in to Hammond.”

Hammond had set up a MALP with a radio relay on the deserted plain on P3R 910, so that the mission could contact Earth without the populace of Gaidhlig listening in.

“Get some sleep.” Jack checked his watch. “Only four hours of night left.”

“I shall stand guard, O'Neill,” Teal'c offered.

“Okay, thanks, T.”

Everyone crawled to their feet and shuffled off to bed. He let Boch get two feet from the door. “Boch, you stay here. You don’t leave my sight until Daniel is safe.”

Boch opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it.  He made a move toward Carter’s bed but she glared him off. He settled for a chair and shut his eyes, oblivious to the hostility around him.

 

The ship was—unique. Several centuries ago it had been an Al’kesh… maybe. Now it was a gaudily painted, half rusted, much patched and modified cargo ship, bought for a song from its owner who promised it would serve them well, or die trying. It reminded Jack of a certain bus he’d trekked across the States in, in 1969.

When he and his team caught up to Teal'c and his crew of first time owner-drivers, he found Carter and Beechworth rather desperately scrubbing out the bathroom facilities, both their faces hidden by old respirator masks. Jack took a sniff and rapidly retreated to the control area where Teal'c and Boch were attempting to reconnect about six miles of wiring.

“How did you fare with the cargo purchase, O'Neill?” Teal'c looked up from a small explosion of sparks. “That linkage is incorrect, Aris Boch.”

“Ah.” Acrid smoke made Jack cough. “Not so well, T. Looks like we’re going to need more cash to secure a cargo that’ll get us into Tsydon. We got a line on a few tons of some pigment they use for—something. Jacob’s gone offworld to get us more currency. You didn’t actually pay for this hunk of junk, I hope?”

“Aris Boch traded his personal vehicle for it.” Teal'c cast a reappraising look at the bounty hunter, and went back to work.

“Oh. Well. Okay.”  He was _not_ saying thank you to Boch. The debt was still stacked way too high against him. Boch glanced up, shrugged and went on with his task.

“How long before this… thing can take off?” Jack asked.

“A couple of days,” replied Boch.

A gagging sound behind them heralded Carter and Beechworth. “It’ll take weeks just for that smell to fade. Ugh.” Carter sagged down the wall while Beechworth wavered, then rushed outside.

Jack cringed at the sounds of the young soldier hurling up his lunch.

“Might need some porta potties, sir,” Carter added faintly.

 

The next day Jacob returned with a large bag that clinked enticingly. By the end of trade, the bag was empty and the newly acquired cargo hold was being filled with sacks of powdered dye. Halfway through loading, another merchant turned up with a small truck filled with barrels from which drifted wonderfully fragrant scents.

Jacob paid the man and beamed at Carter and Beechworth. “A little sweetener for the ride. It’s some kind of spice, smells like cloves to me.”

Sandy Beechworth took a whiff and smiled. “Oh, gen—er, Jacob. This is a life-saver.”

“So. We’re set then?” Jack was itching to get moving.

“Not quite, O'Neill.” Boch joined them by the cargo hatch.

“What do you mean, not quite?”

“We need clearances. There’s custodial inspection of the cargo, departure fees, duty taxes, and intent to land and trade notifications to be transmitted to Tsydon. We turn up there without them, and they’ll blow us to dust.”

“Oh, for crying out loud.”

“The whole galaxy runs on red tape, Jack,” Jacob informed him.

Jack gave Boch his harshest glare. “Fix it. We leave tomorrow.”

 

So here they were. Cargo loaded, belongings packed, weapons hidden – that part had been easy, one step inside the bathroom had sent the inspector on her way. A final report had been delivered to the SGC. They were signed, sealed, ticked and approved.

Sandolus Thane, aka Jacob Carter, was cleared to depart with his crew of two women and six men. Destination – the cargo port on the planet Tsydon.

Teal'c had been warming the engines for an hour, and now brought them up to full capacity.

Jack stared out the view screen at the busy airfield around them. Ships were coming and going all over the place, both planetary and inter-planetary craft in a stunning range of designs. At any other time he would have been drinking in the sight. Not today. He was on edge, nerves chewing at his gut in anticipation. Just getting onto Ba'al’s planet would be the first step in a difficult insertion. They still had to find Daniel, secure him, and retreat without bringing Ba'al’s entire army down on them.

 _One step at a time._

“Cargo vessel, _SS Spacemonkey_. Stand by.” A voice crackled over the comm system. “Traffic control has received instructions to halt all vessels departing for the planet Tsydon.”

Teal'c arched an eyebrow at the speaker. “Please explain the nature of the delay.”

“ _SS Spacemonkey_ , we have received an automated warning from port authorities on Tsydon. All civilian vessels are warned to avoid the planet until further notice. The planet is under attack.”

 

 

 

*SMSGT – Senior Master Sergeant


	13. Eshmun's Gift

Daniel woke slowly. Muted sounds filtered into his brain, gradually sorting into a recognisable rise and fall of people singing. Eyelids too heavy to open, he lay still and tried to work out where he was. Soft, cool sheets underneath his body suggested a bed. The air was warm, nothing unusual there, but it was rich with layered scents of earth, pollen and flowers. He released a deep sigh, which turned into a groan as fire streaked up his spine.

His eyes fluttered open, the pain dragging him out of his stupor. He lay on his side in a bed of snowy white sheets. Greenery tumbled down the walls and he could hear water splashing somewhere close.

 _Eshmun’s temple._

A damp cloth was placed on his forehead, making him jump.

“Be at ease, Adon,” a kindly male voice said.

“Helel?” Daniel looked up and managed to focus on Helel, who was leaning over him. His vision blurred and a dull throb started up in his head. He closed his eyes and sagged into the pillows. “Where are we?”

“We are in the retreat, in the Temple of Eshmun. Are you in pain, Adon?”

“Yes. What happened?”

“Shh. Rest, Adon. Our Lord will relieve your discomfort soon.”

Daniel listened to Helel moving about the room. He remembered the evening before all too clearly. The Goa'uld mating ritual had lasted the entire night. By the time Ba'al and Astarte had disengaged, then slithered up their host’s stupefied bodies and re-entered them, Daniel had been semiconscious, cramps and numbness in his limbs warring with the pain spearing up his spine into his head.

The tangled ball of Goa'uld had eventually ceased their play and returned to their hosts. Once repossessed, the humans had returned to life, their very own Frankensteins powering their movements once again. They had freed Daniel, dressed him and raised him to their shoulders, gently carrying him out of the cavern, along the eerie path and up into a world coming alive under a new dawn. Somewhere along the way he’d finally passed out.

He kept still, not moving arms or legs and trying not to acknowledge the fear that Astarte had done serious damage to him. Content to drift in limbo, he dozed. An unknown time later, a hand on his shoulder brought him awake.

“Come, Daniel. Will you sleep the entire day?” Ba'al sat on the bed next to him. “Helel tells Us you are in pain.”

Daniel stared dully at him, unable to even muster a glare. “What did you do to me?”

Ba'al’s eyebrows rose in mock innocence. “ _We_ did nothing to you. However, Our Lady may have, as ever, been a little too enthusiastic in her task.” He waved a healing device. “We have come to put you to rights, Daniel.”

Too sick and in pain to argue, Daniel shut his eyes. Moments later warmth swept up his back. It spread out, healing and revitalising, making him feel as if he’d been reborn. The stiffness in his legs and arms disappeared, the pain in his back and head vanished, leaving a glow that had him sighing with relief. He rolled onto his back and looked up at Ba'al’s smug face.

“Thank you.”

“It brings Us pleasure to see you well, Daniel.”

“What _did_ you do to me, you bastard?”

“Now, now. You bore witness to a ceremony no other human has seen, Daniel. We have honoured you greatly.”

“Yeah, I’m touched. Okay – Astarte took my spinal fluid, and you mated with her, which was completely disgusting by the way. You’re breeding a batch of fertile Goa'uld. How am I doing so far?”

Ba'al gazed appraisingly at him. “Such intellect. This is why we chose you to help Us, Daniel.”

“Really? I don’t think so. You chose me because I was stupid enough to get zapped in the head with the hand device by a few Goa'uld. And now you’re using me to breed fertile Goa'uld. Who are you planning to capture and implant with your baby snakes?”

“Only one baby, Daniel. As you observed, Our true mating is a lengthy and tiring process. We can only ever produce one potent child at a time. We have not done so for millennia, Daniel. But now, Our Love is ready. She demands a child to share Our empire, and We felt inclined to agree.”

“One….” His fist was swinging up as the words sank in. Ba'al blocked the blow and pinned his arms to the bed, leaning close over him. “Get off me! You lying—I knew—I knew you’d never keep your word. You _are_ going to turn me into a host.” Cold fear gnawed at him as he stared up into Ba'al’s face.

“Daniel. Daniel! You are an intelligent man – think! How long has the Shol’va Teal'c kept his infant Goa'uld?” Ba'al gripped his upper arms and shook him. “How long?”

“What? Junior?”

“Junior?” Ba'al blinked, momentarily distracted.

“Jack calls it…. Never mind. Teal'c’s had it for years. Well, he’s had the new one four years. I don’t know how long he had the previous one. Why?”

“Did you ever see the infant? Was it pink and unformed?”

“Yes.”

“It is immature, Daniel. An immature Goa'uld requires many years of incubation before it is capable of controlling a host. If Astarte has successfully conceived, and it is by no means assured, the infant will need years to mature. We have no plans to use your body as a host.”

“Years?”

“Years.”

Ba'al released his arms, and Daniel collapsed into the bed. “Then what was last night all about? Why did she need _my_ DNA to conceive?”

Ba'al leaned back and considered him for a moment. “Our Lady Astarte has become most fond of you, Daniel. In appearance you resemble Our lost Eshmun. Your manner also reminds Us both of him. With him brought so clearly to mind every time she sees you, it was inevitable that her desire for a child was rekindled, and you were the only one she would accept the human code from.”

“You need the code to prevent rejection from a Jaffa or host.”

“Yes.”

Daniel rubbed his hands over his face and swore quietly. “There’s more. Isn’t there?”

“Yes.”

“Why am I here? In Eshmun’s temple, and not in the citadel? You still want the information.” He stared up at the flowering vines twined over the ceiling. “It’s nothing from Osiris or Amonet, is it?”

“No.”

“I worked it out, you know. Not that it was so hard when I started dreaming their dreams. Things I never saw or did myself, but they’re in my head, unearthed by your damn machine. It’s the ribbon device – whatever you call it.”

“Ninvan’etak.”

“Ninvan’etak. You use it to throw someone across a room, and that’s okay. You can use it to burn, to torture, that’s okay too. But you only ever use it on someone’s brain when you mean to kill them. That’s what you meant by ‘always finish that which you begin’.” He snuck a peek at Ba'al who sat there, looking back with an interested frown on his face.

“The Ninvan’etak requires a what… connection with your own brain to power it? You direct the power into another’s brain and it will kill, but it does more than that. It takes something from you, channels _your_ thoughts, _your_ memories into the other. That’s why you can’t let them live.”

Ba'al’s expression was transformed into admiration.

“Sha’re used the connection to talk to me while Amonet was trying to kill me. But Teal'c stopped her.” Daniel spoke without inflection, unable to muster any emotion. Or perhaps because he knew if he did he wouldn’t be able to control it.

“And Osiris? How did you stop him?”

“A drug. We made a drug from the stuff in the jar that Isis had been kept in. I stabbed her with it.”

Ba'al shook his head. “You amaze Us, Daniel. Do you know, you are the only person, in all of Goa'uld-held territory, in all the time We have ruled as a System Lord, the only person to have survived a lethal attack by the Ninvan’etak?”

Daniel continued to stare at the ceiling. Ba'al was talking openly now; he had to push for as much information as he could.

“So, is it Klorel’s knowledge you’re after?” He thought it unlikely, but it was possible. With Apophis gone, Ba'al could be after the secrets his son possessed.

Ba'al abruptly stood. _“Klorel?”_ He peered at Daniel like he had suddenly transmuted into a murex snail. “Klorel!”

“Yeah. Didn’t think so.”

“We knew you were present at his extraction, but how did he….”

“Fry my brains?” It was old news now, and nothing Ba'al couldn’t access with the machine. “We were on his ship which was headed to Earth. He caught me and…. Jack killed him.” And Skaara. Temporarily.

“Remarkable.” Ba'al started pacing around the bed. “Quite remarkable.”

 _And then there was one._

Somehow Daniel knew, from the moment he’d realized the visions in his head were the memories of Goa'uld who had attacked him with the Ninvane’tak. Ba'al had to be after the knowledge that had been transferred into his brain while Ra attempted to kill him, on board his ship, the _Mi’Canah,_ on Abydos.

It explained the crippling headaches he’d suffered after each attack. Fighting them on Klorel’s ship, he’d soon been shot and had dragged his bloody, broken body to the sarcophagus, where his injuries and his headaches had been healed. After Amonet, Janet had kept him dosed on morphine for days. She’d helped him after Osiris too, administering pain relief while he lay semi-conscious in the jeep, next to Stephen, as Sam frantically drove them back to Saqqara.

After Ra there had been no morphine. Everything had happened so quickly. Jack, Ferretti and Kowalski had bid their goodbyes, and in the midst of the burgeoning celebrations he’d been overcome by the pain in his head and collapsed in Sha’re’s arms. Their honeymoon had consisted of her tenderly nursing him through boughts of nausea and agony.  The herbs she had dosed him with had saved his life, and left much of the fight for Abydos a blurred and broken collection of images. The ribbon attack had faded from his memory completely. It only resurfaced a year later, when he finally wrote his report on the mission. 

“You’re after whatever was transferred into me when Ra tried to kill me with the hand device,” he stated flatly. Then his brow creased with another question. “ _How_ could you know he did it?”

If Osiris was working with Ba'al, he might have told Ba'al about his attempt to kill Daniel. But the only people who knew about Ra were Jack and whoever on Earth had authorization to read the mission report. None of Ra’s Jaffa had survived. Unless… Klorel had found out through Skaara, or Amonet through…. Did the Goa'uld share intelligence like that? “Who told you?” He sat up, anger building at the thought of his family having their memories stolen and sold. “Tell me, dammit.”

Surprised by his vehemence, Ba'al sat back down on the bed. “We were given the information six months ago, Daniel. Rest assured it did not come from those who took your wife or brother.”

Annoyed at being so transparent, he rested his back against the pillows. “Who then?”

“It came from Our other partner, one who does not wish you to know their name yet.”

“Who doesn’t want _me_ to know their name. Right.” Daniel tried going through his list of Goa'uld-I-have-met-and-not-yet-killed, then got diverted by another thought. _What if it’s not a Goa'uld? Someone from Earth. NID? Or Aris Boch? No…. Who then?_

Another question rose over the others. “What is it of Ra’s that you want? Surely his fleet and Jaffa have all been snapped up by other Goa'uld?” They’d seen Horus-helmeted Jaffa in the employ of both Hathor and Heru’ur.

“You don’t need to concern yourself with these questions, Daniel.” Ba'al glanced toward the doors, and Daniel noticed a group of red robed priests kneeling in the open doorway. “The time approaches for a most important ceremony.”

 _Jeez, not another one_. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

Ba'al smiled, more sad than amused. “It is ironic that Our Lady’s belief that you are Eshmun returned has presented Us with the means to heal the scarring which blocks the information we seek.”

Daniel tensed. “What do you mean?”

“Her desire to have Eshmun alive once again dictates that Eshmun’s Gift be celebrated with Our people. You, dear Adon, will take Eshmun’s place, give his Gift, then lie in his resting place and be healed. At the same time, Eshmun’s sarcophagus will heal the scarring on your neural pathways and when you awaken We will have that which We have sought. And Our Lady will have her Eshmun.”

The words froze him, bounced through his skull with sickening repetition. Gift. Healed. Sarc— Daniel exploded into action, bare foot striking Ba'al’s ribs as he dove off the side of the bed. He didn’t even reach the floor. Ba'al grabbed his leg and dragged him back. Daniel twisted and kicked and punched, but Ba'al easily deflected the blows and threw his body over Daniel’s, flattening him to the bed.

“Before you accuse Us of lying again, We promised not to put you in _Our_ sarcophagus. Eshmun’s sarcophagus has been modified to operate over extended periods. Our Lady believes you to be our son, and We are willing to accommodate her. You will sleep for four months, and rise with the spring. You will be Ours for the planting season and will give Us that which We seek. Then you shall be Our Lady’s until the summer dies and you shall sleep again.”

“No—You’re insane. I can’t stay in a sarcophagus for _months_.” The thought of it made his mind blank in panic. “Please, there must be some other way….”

“There is not. You are Ours now, Adon. You will serve Us, and you will serve Our Lady. It will be a good life, Adon. You will want for nothing and be loved as you have never before been loved.” As Ba'al spoke the Breath of the Gods drifted from his lips, seeping into Daniel’s skin and stealing his will. Gradually his hands, clenched against Ba'al, lost strength and fell limp to the bed.

“Don’t….” Daniel’s voice trailed away, stolen like everything else he possessed. Ba'al owned him and he was powerless to stop what was about to happen.

 

 

Ba'al gave him over to the priests. Red-robed and silent, they took him to the centre of the room, stripped him and washed his body with warm sponges. After patting his skin and hair dry, they shaved his face, then proceeded to massage oil into every inch of his body. Heady aromas of myrrh and myrtle wreathed his senses, combining with the Nishta and making him dizzy. Ba'al stood close by, supervising the process with a critical eye. Daniel tried to resist, to pull his arms out of the men’s grasp, to move away, somewhere, but each attempt was thwarted easily and even if he succeeded, he knew he would get no further than Ba'al. The drug coursing through his veins dragged his attention to the Goa'uld relentlessly.

With the oil absorbed into his skin, the priests moved their efforts to his hair, combing, brushing, twisting strands together with threads of silver and attaching diamond adornments that sparkled and chimed when he moved. Next were two gold armbands, intricately engraved, placed securely over his biceps. Then a familiar tinkle drew his eyes from Ba'al to Astarte’s ‘favour’. One priest fastened the diamond band to his left leg. He looked up and caught Daniel staring at him. It was one of the priests who had discovered him in the river – Shapash? Total adoration filled the man’s face and his eyes brimmed with tears.

Unnerved, Daniel looked away and found _him_ , now standing by his side, so alluring in the midnight purple of his clothes. Ba'al held a velvet box, open and offered to Daniel. Inside, an enormous ruby gleamed, fire sparkling from its facets. Shapash bowed deeply and lifted the gem from its cushion. Entranced by the life in the stone, Daniel didn’t see what the other priests were doing until a sharp pain made him flinch. Many hands held him in place. He looked down, appalled to see a long needle being withdrawn from the fold of skin over his navel. A trickle of blood was wiped away, then the ruby’s gold hook was slipped through the piercing. The gem dangled from his body, a glittering treasure, which drew murmurs of approval from the men around him. A fine rope of champagne-coloured diamond studs was produced and looped around his waist, the ends fastened to either side of the ruby. The diamonds settled over his hipbones – a dazzling chain that bound him to Ba'al as emphatically as the Nishta in his blood.

The triumph, the sheer possessiveness in Ba'al’s eyes swamped Daniel. The fight went out of him. He barely registered the sheer red robe draped over his body, or the red veil that floated down over his face. Then the priests were gone and Ba'al was all he could see.

His tormentor caught him up, hugged him close, his Breath in every one of Daniel’s breaths. “Ah, Daniel. We knew the moment We first saw you, your beauty laid out before Us, so innocent, so perfect. We knew your coming to Our home would be of such importance to Us. You have made Our Love so happy, and for that We thank you. She is alive now, as she has not been since the first Eshmun passed.” Ba'al’s voice tickled in his ear, his body pressed firmly to Daniel’s. “We vow, here and now, to protect you and cherish you. You will never want, and We will see you happy always.”

Ba'al’s hands moved to his face, caressed his jaw, his cheeks, his brow. He pressed his mouth to Daniel’s, kissed him long and tenderly through the veil. Daniel melted into the embrace, possessed and completely lost.

“Come, Our Adon.” Ba'al took his hand. “Darkness falls.”

 

 

The hand holding his drew him out of the room, down paths lined with green ferns and brilliant flowers. Then _she_ was there, standing alone, her beauty outlined by the fading light of day. She was dressed the same as her Lord, gossamer cloth of deepest purple, diamonds sparkling in her hair, from her wrist, breasts, waist and ankles.

She held out her hand to him and he went without hesitation.

“It is you,” she murmured in his ear, her hands slipping under his robes, leaving trails of desire across his skin. She pulled his head down, met his lips with hers. New passion flooded into him, mingling with the first, a crescendo of need that consumed him. He moved against her, but she drew back, pink mist connecting them. He hardened quickly, blind to all but desire. She smiled and stayed him with her command. “Not yet, my love. Your Gift must be shared tonight.”

She took his hand, _he_ took the other, and together they drew him through the vast open doors, out into a warm twilight lit by flickering torch fire. Soft grass tickled his feet. They moved him across an open space, the red-robed men leading the way. Past the stone legs of the one who had gone before him, down the side of the track that led to the temples of his Lord and Lady. Another path swallowed them into the forest.

Unsure, he faltered, but his Lord and Lady comforted him and he went, knowing he was theirs. The path widened into a large grotto, wet rock under his feet announced the spring, which bled water from the earth. The priests withdrew to the sides and he could see where the rock dropped away, letting the water crash down and down, from one stone pool to another, eventually to make the Bodashtart. The river wound between the temples of his Lord and Lady, and flowed on, giving its life to the city.

They held him still on the very edge of the rock, cold water flowing over their feet. Below, the open spaces were filled with the people of the city. At his appearance, a wail of grief such as he’d never heard rose up, thousands of voices combined in sadness.

“Why are they crying?”

“They grieve for you, dear Eshmun.” His Lady kissed his hand, her tears falling on his palm. “Their sadness is my sadness, love. You must leave us now.”

Her words filtered slowly through the fog in his head. With effort, he extracted her meaning. “I… don’t… want… to go….”

“Nor do we wish to be parted from our love.” His Lord kissed his other hand. “But the time is upon us. It must be.”

A deep chant rose up from the priests behind them, was caught up by the watchers below and thrown back, amplified a thousand-fold.

Fear began to twist inside him. The torchlight flickered red, the faces of his Lord and Lady were red tinged, everywhere, everything was the colour of red.

“Please….”

A crack of thunder drowned his voice. The people below paused, then took up the chant again, ever louder. His Lord moved closer, slipped the robe from his body. Barely concealed by it, he now stood nude before the people, aroused and trembling. The veil was lifted from his face, but still the world seemed tinged with red.

They took his hands, pressed close to his sides. His Lady reached out, curled her fingers over his arousal. His Lord’s hand covered hers, and together they made him fill, unbearable need consumed him, until sudden climax released him. His seed soared out of him, over the edge of the rocks and down, mingling with the water. The crowd below erupted with cheering, those closest to the river dipped their hands in to touch his blessing.

He sagged in their arms, breath catching, legs shaking. Their strength held him up; their love buoyed his heart. He could not look away from the waving crowd below, even the rip of thunder in the sky seemed to approve of his offering.

A sharp prick of pain made him flinch. He stared at his hands, at the two thin glass tubes now protruding from either wrist. Two more stabs, high on his legs near his exhausted manhood from identical tubes, inserted by his Lord. Bright blood emerged from the tubes and plopped into the water swirling past his feet. The cloud of red thickened and flowed over the edge, falling down into the first pool. A wail rose from the spectators – but grief was replaced now with joy, with excitement. They wanted his blood.

“No… nonononononoooo…” His protest barely audible, he tried to pull away, but their grip was too strong. The Lady was weeping loudly, her fingers pressed harder into his flesh as the blood flowed freely. It poured down his sides, down his legs. Red fire glinted from the ruby. His Lord’s free hand brushed his belly, the gesture meant for comfort, bringing none.

Cold seeped through his body. He began to shake. His heart tripped in his chest, faltered and picked up its beat, pounding harder to do its work with an ever-diminishing resource. He gasped for air, unable to draw in enough breath.

Lightning rent the sky, one then another jagged bolt. A third split a mighty tree in two, setting it afire. In the hellish glow, the people danced and sang, splashed in the Bodashtart, covering themselves with its red waters.

He exhaled, a stutter of air left his cold lips. He tried to breathe, but his lungs refused. His heart tripped, stopped for agonising seconds, pounded once, twice, struggled for a third.

The blood flow was easing. Unable to keep his head up, he sagged. There was a roaring in his ears, drowning the cheer of the revellers. He managed one more breath. His heart tried to go on. It failed. Red clouded his vision. His eyes rolled and he slumped in the arms around him. Sounds faded.

Four small twinges were the last he felt. He was light, untethered to the world of noise and pain. He floated up. He drifted down. His last dregs of consciousness registered golden light.

And then there was nothing.

 


	14. Flight of the Phoenix

Daniel dreamed.

 

Scattered images rose and faded in his mind. Voices called out, lost in unrecognisable times, drifted away into silence. The emptiness between the dreams was eternal, frightening and lonely. He struggled to find himself.

 

 _He stood in bright sunshine; the arc of an empty blue sky cradled the golden sands surrounding the massive white temple. The bright colours decorating the walls and columns of the building mirrored the dazzling clothes and jewels of the gods who stood under the portico, gathered around he who ruled them all – Ra._

 _They had come to swear their fealty to him but, as it ever was with their kind, they plotted and schemed. He held the hand of Isis, his consort, his eternal love. Beside them stood Merul, Heru’ur, Seth, Bastet and Anubis. All loved, feared and hated their Lord Ra in equal measure._

 _Ra reclined in his throne, his queen Hathor at his side, watching the humans parade along the causeway before them, cheering, waving, bearing icons and presenting gifts to their god. He looked down upon them and despised them for their slavery, hated them for being the same as he – Osiris, slave of Ra…_

 

Golden light filled the void.

 

 _… Poison crept through his body, agonizing and fatal. The host was dying; he could not stay inside him. His vision darkened, fixed on the horror before him: his beloved Isis, fleeing her dead host, caught in the fist of their betrayer. Seth had convinced him to conspire against Ra. They had met in secret to discuss Hathor’s disappearance, drunk a toast of beer and in seconds lay dying on the ground. Seth sneered at him, picked up a large white Canopic jar and stuffed beloved Isis inside. He held a second jar, came closer and closer. The host expired, his dying breath expelled Osiris into the grasp of Seth. The jar loomed ever closer…_

 

The light surrounded him, filled him.

 

 _… She curled in the belly of the priestess, excited and anxious. She was to be Queen, chosen by Lord Apophis to stand at his side. His previous Queen had vanished, why did not matter. Destiny had brought her to her rightful place, and her true love. She heard his voice and poked her head out of the womb._

 _The offered host stood before her. The pale hair was appealing, as was the face. But the body was too thin, unsuitable to provide the bearing of a Queen. She hissed her displeasure and returned to the warmth of her carrier. Find me another…_

 

In the healing glow, Daniel moved restlessly, on the edge of waking.

 

 _… Another offering was presented. Young, beautiful, dark curls tumbling around slim shoulders. The body was strong, yet curved enticingly. The full breasts and wide hips would serve Apophis’s intended purpose. Yes. This one shall be mine…_

 

“No! Sha’re….” Daniel screamed himself awake. His eyes flew open, hands reached out to hold his wife, but they closed on thin air, scraped on the lid of the sarcophagus. “Oh, god no.” He tried to sit up, cracked his skull on the stone lid. “Oh, crap.” Claustrophobia seized him, squeezing the air from his lungs.

The golden light pulsed around him. “Let me out!” he yelled, voice cracking with despair. The machine hummed a little louder. Sleep crept over his consciousness. His body went limp, eyes sliding shut.

“Sha’re….” He fell into nothingness for a long time.

 

 _…“That’s yours to keep…”_

 _…“You are weak. You must assert your control. You are Klorel – son of the god Apophis. Would you allow this pitiful human to shame Us?”_

 _“No, father. Forgive me, father. I will do better.”_

 _He bowed his head, humiliated by the scorn of his sire. Within him, the other commiserated, said his father should not treat him in such a fashion. ‘Be quiet.’_

 _‘Let me help you….’_

 _He touched the cold metal object in his pocket. It was always there, had been since he first awoke in this body. Many times he had tried to rid himself of it, but something stayed his hand. Now, it was easier just to leave it there…_

 _… He walked through the palace, bored. Still mistrusted and blamed for the loss of their Ha’taks over the Tau’ri homeworld, his father-god had left him behind. He went into the women’s quarters, scattered the human slaves with a scowl._

 _His mother-god reclined under the fans held by two male slaves. He sat at her feet for a long time, gazing curiously at her. The boy whispered to him, as he had many times before, told him that his father-god would never grant him power to wield independently. He would forever be inferior to him. Always he denied it, and punished the boy painfully, but each time he knew the truth of the claims. Now, his mother-god slept while the human child grew within the host._

 _Loosening his control, he allowed the boy to speak._

 _“Sha’re?”_

 _“Skaara.”_

 _Their hands met, clung together. “We have heard of a race called the Tollan. If we left, we could ask for their help.”_

 _They had spoken like this many times, the boy and his sister. He had fought it at first, then as their hopeless talk of freedom grew more determined, he allowed it, even encouraged it, for it mirrored his own desires._

 _He wanted to leave, and the boy would not go without the sister. Perhaps it was time…_

 _…She was gone. Taken in the night, placed into hiding by his father-god. Their chance at freedom had passed. The boy cried, desolate. He comforted him as best he could. He touched the cold metal thing in his pocket…_

 

Light filled his senses, calming his restlessness.

 

 _…“Let me take the fleet, father. I will defeat the Tau’ri, and the glory of the victory will be yours.”_

 _His father-god stared at him with doubt-filled eyes. “No. We do not believe you strong enough to conduct such a task. We shall command Our fleet. You may take Our secondary Ha’tak. Follow in Our wake, and learn from Our greatness. But first, you shall sleep in the god’s chamber. Strengthen yourself, my son. Prove to Us you are capable.”_

 _“I will not fail, father. I am prepared.”_

 _Within him, the boy urged him on._

 _He touched the metal object and walked toward his destiny._

 

Daniel tossed fitfully on the threshold of waking, but unable to cross over. His lips twitched with pride at his brother’s defiance. The image of a small metal lighter circled in his head, and he clung to it, determined to remember. To tell Jack.

 

 

The timeless limbo of golden light suddenly altered. Daniel became aware as his heart increased its rhythm, his blood surged through his veins, resuming normal pace. He could feel his fingers and toes, feel the air moving through his nose, down into his lungs. His eyelids fluttered, blinked open. The penetrating light was fading, a paler, more wholesome light replacing it.

 _The lid is open._

As he tried to muster the strength to sit up, a hand reached down, curled around his neck and eased him up. Dizziness swamped him. A groan escaped as he listed sideways into the sarcophagus’ wall. The hand firmed its grip around his back, another under his knees and he was lifted up.

The hateful box was gone. Daniel let his head sag back in relief and filled his lungs with pure air. His feet touched the ground, but his knees buckled and threatened to send the rest of him down. The hands gripped his body, pressed him close to another. He let his head drop onto a strong shoulder.

“Breathe, Adon. Your strength will return soon.”

Barely supporting his own weight, his limbs trembled. He pulled in breath after breath, and finally got his eyes open again. Beyond the dark clothing of whoever held him, everything was a green blur, backlit by a weird orange blur.

“Wh…?”

“Can you stand, Adon? We must hurry.”

“N….” The person supporting him let him take his own weight. He locked his knees and stood quivering like a newborn colt.

“Adon?” A hand grabbed his chin, shook his head a little. “Daniel!”

He focused with some effort. A blurred face resolved into Ba'al. “B….”

“Yes, Adon. Good. Come now, we have little time.”

“Fi… finished?”

“No. Unfortunately your healing sleep has been interrupted. We will explain later. Come.” Ba'al still held his shoulders, stilling his swaying body.

“Why…?”

“We have no time for talk. Concentrate on breathing.” Ba'al pulled him close again. Daniel’s stupefied brain barely identified the green blur behind Ba'al as the foliage of Eshmun’s temple before metallic bands wrapped around them, and the temple was replaced by the familiar furnishings of his suite in the citadel.

Blood drained out of his head in the sudden displacement. He moaned and slumped bonelessly against Ba'al.

“ _Thapreet_. Sit, Adon.”

Soft material touched his skin. Ba'al deposited him on a sofa and stepped away, speaking urgently with someone. Another person approached, bent over him and lifted his head from the cushions. Cold glass pressed against his lips. “Drink, Adon. You will feel better.”

Obediently, he swallowed the sweet liquid. He dragged his eyes open again, surprised as warmth spread out through his body. It tasted like chillies and nutmeg. He coughed, then accepted the rest of the drink.

“Good. Rest a moment, now.” The person stood back, and he recognized Kosharta. She regarded him critically, then nodded.

Head lolling on the sofa, he watched her moving around the room. “What… s’happening?”

Ba'al stood by the windows, eerily silhouetted by the orange glow in the sky. He looked grimmer than Daniel had ever seen him. A high-pitched whine echoed from outside, followed by a dull boom, which rattled the closed windows.

Kosharta came back with a basin and cloth, and proceeded to wash his face and body. Daniel kept staring at Ba'al.

“Our city is under attack, Adon,” Ba'al said, his voice filled with cold murder. “It is Our own fault. We flaunted you in front of Lord Yu. We knew his court was full of spies.” Another boom – not quite an explosion – punctuated the Goa'uld’s words.

Kosharta brandished a towel and vigorously rubbed Daniel dry.

“Yu is attacking?” Daniel asked, perplexed.

Ba'al strode closer. “No. It is the fleet of Anubis. Led by Zipacna.” Ba'al’s voice dripped scorn. “He cannot do the deed himself. He relies on his disposable lackeys.”

Daniel stared, horrified at the orange glow beyond his room. “The city? It’s on fire? The people—”

A smile creased Ba'al’s face. He raised a hand, aborting Daniel’s alarm. “Our city and Our people are unharmed, Adon. Rest assured we are well protected. What you see is Our defence shield. It covers this city, Our ports and all Our outlying villages. No amount of bombardment will exhaust its power supplies.”

“Oh.” He sank back into the sofa. Kosharta bustled away, picked up an armful of clothes and came back. “Wait. You mean Anubis is attacking…. He wants _me?_ ”

Kosharta knelt and guided his feet into a pair of pants. Ba'al stopped behind her. “Yes, Daniel. We are unsure how much the Hidden One knows, but he has demanded We turn you over to him.”

Pants up to his knees, Kosharta grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. She drew the pants up and fastened them while Daniel watched numbly.

“You’re giving me to him.” He couldn’t look at Ba'al.

Ba'al’s explosive laugh made him jump. “Never! Never would We turn over Our lowliest Jaffa to that one, let alone you whom We prize so highly. You have a strange opinion of your worth, Adon.”

Confused, he looked at Ba'al. “Then, where are we going? You took me out of the sarcophagus before the… treatment was finished.”

“We are sending you to Our partners. We believe you should be sufficiently healed, and We will be able to access the information you carry. We will soon begin Our campaign. We shall rid Our home skies of this nuisance and join you before you reach your destination. Anubis has signed his death warrant with this action against Us.”

“Partners….” Barely able to keep up, Daniel watched Kosharta as she removed the gold bands from his arms, and the diamond chain from his waist, dropping them next to Astarte’s diamond favour.

She touched Eshmun’s ruby. “Sire?” she enquired softly.

“No. Leave it. It proclaims to all who he is. That he is Ours.”

She nodded, removed the adornments from Daniel’s hair, then helped him into a jacket. The rich, heavily embroidered material matched the royal purple of the pants. Kosharta buttoned it up and tugged it firmly down over his hips, then pushed him down into the seat and slipped his feet into socks and high boots of the same colour.

“Osiris will kill me.”

“No, he will not.”

“She thinks I know where Isis is.” He automatically referred to that Goa'uld as ‘she’. After all, it was Sarah he saw.

“Do you?”

“Wh… er… she’s dead. She died probably millennia ago, in the stasis jar Seth sealed her in.” Images flashed through his head from half-remembered dreams. “When Osiris finds out, she’s not gonna be happy.”

“Ah. Well, We suggest you do not tell him then.” Ba'al leaned over and peered at Daniel. “Do not worry, Adon. We will be at your side the whole time.”

“Stop calling me that.”

Kosharta pulled him to his feet again. The clothes felt strange, tight but not restrictive, and made him aware of how long it had been since he’d last worn decent clothing. Ba'al stepped in front of him, forcing Daniel to look him in the eye.

“You are safe with us, Adon. We have vowed this.” He smiled and wrapped a hand around the back of Daniel’s neck. His other hand came up and Daniel realised what it was he held. He tried to duck away, but his body was not recovered yet. The sudden movement made his head swim. He wavered and Ba'al easily caught him. Ba'al pressed the silencer to his throat. Slender filaments sank into his skin, and cold metal stole his protests.

 Daniel scowled at him and ineffectually clawed at the silencer. Outside, another strike against the city’s shield made the room vibrate. Ba'al gripped his arm and firmly steered him across the room, towards the hidden doorway that led to the scanning room.

“Wait! My Lord, one moment.” Kosharta ran after them. She held a small drawstring bag, the same colour as Daniel’s clothing. Reaching out, she tied it to a loop on his waistband. “The Adon’s glasses. So that he may see his way clearly.” Her stern face softened in a wistful smile. She reached up, patted his cheek, then fastened his high collar over the silencer. “Fair journey and farewell, Daniel.”

Daniel blinked, surprised and touched by her display of warmth. He gave her a little wave goodbye, then Ba'al was tugging him through the door and down the long passageway.

 

 

The rings at the end took them down. Ba'al strode rapidly along the hall, past the door to the scanning room, which relieved Daniel greatly. The Goa'uld’s grip on his arm was unwavering. At the far end of the hall two Rephaim stood guard. Ba'al walked past them and stopped, drawing Daniel close.

Rings shot up around them, making him jump. Down they went once again, and were deposited in a vast, natural cavern. Daniel had little time to take it in. Ba'al pulled him forward, their footsteps echoing around them. The roof of the cave was hung with a beautiful display of stalactites, all gleaming in an eerie blue light. Reluctant to pull his gaze back to where he was going, he found the source of that rippling blue light.

A Stargate.

In all its majesty, it sat in the centre of the cavern. A circle of Rephaim stood watch around it. Resheph walked toward them and bowed respectfully. “My Lord, the way is clear. Our fleet fares well in the engagement above Tsydon. Anubis has lost two Hat’ak and will lose many more,” she reported grimly.

“Excellent. And Our defences? How fares the shield?”

“It has not weakened, my Lord. The power source holds firm, and the energy from the bombardment is being channelled into the reserve power supply. We will be able to deploy the shield for many weeks, at the very least.”

Ba'al made a low growling laugh. “As We planned, Resheph. But it will be unnecessary. Within days We will have at Our disposal the means of eradicating Anubis and his cronies.” He started toward the Stargate, tugging Daniel along. “Come, Adon. Your moment of glory is nigh upon us.”

Filled with trepidation, Daniel approached the Stargate. He cast a final look back at Resheph and her soldiers, and wondered if he would ever see Tsydon again. Part of him hoped not, but he knew there was much about this planet he liked and would miss.

 

 

The wormhole drew him in, then he was out, stumbling in a different gravity. Ice crystals, formed in the journey and compounded by the cold bite of the air, pinched at his exposed skin. It was dark, stars hung clearly, brilliantly above them. Beneath his feet, bare rock stretched away in all directions. A platoon of Jaffa stood at attention, ringing the Gate and DHD.

The Stargate snapped off, leaving them bathed in starlight. Daniel gazed at it longingly. All it would take was a few steps, seven symbols slapped down and he could be gone, whisked away to any of a large number of friendly planets. Free. Safe.

Steely fingers pressed into his bicep and made him realise he’d actually taken a couple of steps toward the DHD. Ba'al frowned at him and dragged him in the opposite direction.

The Jaffa squad leader stepped up and thumped his breastplate in salute. “My Lord, your vessel awaits. It is cloaked. The enemy have not discovered us.”

Ba'al acknowledged him with a nod. He drew Daniel to him and looked intently into his eyes. “Here we must part, Daniel. Our Jaffa will keep you safe while We deal with this attack on Our home.” He looked up and Daniel followed his gaze, seeing only the steady glow of stars in the velvet backdrop of space. “Tsydon is there.” Ba'al pointed to a bright, bluish glow. “Do not be concerned for Our people. No harm will befall them, nor you, Daniel. We shall join you soon, then We shall bring Our peace to the galaxy. This…,” he indicated the invisible battle raging over Tsydon, “will be the last senseless action of war.”

Ba'al caressed his cheek. “Follow the directives of Our Jaffa. Mneehh dareek, Daniel.” _Good journey._

The System Lord stood back and nodded curtly to the Jaffa. Four Jaffa surrounded Daniel. A hum came from beneath his feet. Around them, the base of a ring transporter glowed. Daniel had one final glimpse of Ba'al, standing tall and implacable, his handsome face determined and edged with a proud smile.

The rings came up and Daniel was swept away.

 

 

They arrived on a large Goa'uld ship, probably a Ha’tak. Jaffa were everywhere, standing guard at the doorway, moving purposely through the corridors.

Daniel was quickly escorted to a room, and locked inside. He sank onto the bed, fingers automatically going to the device on his throat. It was firmly attached, so thin he couldn’t get a proper grip on it. He managed to get one fingernail under an edge and pulled. Pain shot through his skin and up and down his throat. He gagged and soundlessly coughed.

 _Okay. Leaving that there._

He sighed. The journey from sarcophagus to Ha’tak had drained what strength he had. Exhaustion crept over him and pushed away the worries and conjectures crowding his thoughts. He slumped back on the bed and was quickly asleep.

 

 

He woke to sirens and the smell of acrid smoke. Two Jaffa were standing over him, shouting at him to wake, and hauling him off the bed. They dragged him out into the corridor and a scene of chaos. Sparks showered down from overloaded electrical systems. Barely keeping his feet, Daniel was hustled through smoke and debris. The whole ship shuddered and threw them into the wall. They pulled him up and continued on.

Announcements were coming over the ship’s comms: hyperdrive gone, sublight engines failing, shields failing, hull integrity compromised in seven key areas. Their attacker was identified as Anubis, and whoever was on the Peltak was vowing bloody vengeance on him for this cowardly sneak attack.

They skirted a group of Jaffa feverishly battling a fire. Daniel’s Jaffa took him into the ring transport room, and in a flash they were on an Al’kesh bomber. Through the view screen, Daniel could see the open door of the flight deck, black space beyond filled with laser fire and darting death gliders.

Cold metal wrapped around his wrists. He tried to jerk away but the Jaffa held him while another manacled his wrists together. They pushed him down to the floor and stood over him.

The ship gathered speed and fled the embattled larger vessel. Out in the openness of space, he caught a stunning view of dozens of smaller ships wheeling around three Ha’taks, which were locked in a punishing duel. Fire blossomed from each one and was extinguished in the vacuum.

The Al’kesh gathered speed, slipping through a protective cordon of gliders, and out into clear space.

Apprehensive, Daniel watched, and hated being so powerless, his fate in the hands of strangers.

The navigator swiftly selected a course, while the pilot readied the ship’s hyperdrive. The Al’kesh kicked up to unimaginable speed.  At the moment they reached the threshold of hyperspace, a jarring impact threw everyone flying.

The ship tilted, spun off its course, but the engaged engines took over and they shot to hyperspeed, leaving their attackers far behind.

 

 

They limped along for two days, engines only just keeping them in hyperspace. Curled on a blanket in the cargo space, in between long hours of being ignored, Daniel caught a few words in the worried conversation of the pilot and the Jaffa in charge. There were seven of them with him, and they all looked worried. Well they should. They were off-course, unable to contact anyone and about to run out of fuel.

The ship creaked alarmingly, and the engines rose to a cringe-inducing shriek, which produced a flurry of activity at the controls. With a feeling like they had tripped over something, the engines died and the view screen changed from the star-streaked darkness of space to a horrifyingly close image of a planet.

Even Daniel, a novice space traveller, could tell they were too close. He could see land mass and vast green seas beneath the clouds, which were coming nearer every second. Shouts of panic filled the little ship, something about gravity wells, and unresponsive engines.

 _Oh, crap. Is this how it ends? Burnt to a crisp on some unknown planet. There won’t even be a body, let alone anyone to tell the tale. Jack…Teal'c, Sam, I’m sorry. I hope you know how I feel about you all._

He stared in morbid fascination as the planet below began to spin, its gravity sucking the ship down in an uncontrolled dive. A horrendous noise assailed them – the planet’s atmosphere dragging against the hull as the ship plummeted. Two Jaffa ran into the hold and pulled him to his feet, fear etched on their faces. They dragged him onto the flight deck and without pause, shoved him into one of the escape pods. He barely had time to turn around and see the looming planet one last time before the doors closed over him, sealing him in.

The control panel by the doors blinked from red to green, then shifted back to red. Appalled, he watched the pattern repeat. The pod release wasn’t working. Again and again the green gave way to red, and the pod stayed attached to the doomed ship. Daniel brought his manacled hands up, and blessing Martouf and his meticulous instructions on a previous trip to Hell, he flipped open the access panel, grabbed the manual release lever and yanked it down.

 

 

A prayer, ancient and comforting came silently to his lips. In his head, his mother’s voice spoke the words as she had spoken them over him, so long ago.

Clinging to that slender thread of hope, Daniel fell.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tsydon

Book Two

The Sun on the Horizon

 

 

 

 

Thapreet : Phoenician word for Neverworld, Hell,


	15. The Space In Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue.

The sudden cessation of the noise assaulting Daniel’s ears was almost painful. Tortured metallic shrieks from the Goa’uld vessel as it was torn apart by the planet’s gravity were replaced by a muffled silence. The only sound to be heard above his own harsh breathing was the gentle susurration of air as the pod plummeted away from the stricken ship, its velocity taking it and him along a new path through the atmosphere.

Trying valiantly to calm his breathing, Daniel glanced around the confines of his confines.

 _Well done, Dannyboy. Another box. Great._

Well, he’d done this once before, he could do it again. Dredging up the never-to-be-forgotten memories of the trip to Netu, Daniel scanned the control panel set next to the doors in front of him. Thrusters, left and right, braking jets, stabilizers, check. Comm panel was green, pity there was no one to talk to. All he had to do was lean back and enjoy the ride. The pod’s sensors would detect the swiftly approaching ground and bring him down to a nice gentle landing.

 _Yeah, right. When has anything ever been that easy?_

 He glanced ran over the control panels once more - everything green, plenty of air, a little light to see by, and it even felt like the pod was starting to slow.

 _With any luck the Jaffa will end up on the other side of the planet, I’ll land near some nice friendly people, they’ll take me to their Stargate and I’ll be home for dinner._

Daniel huffed a silent laugh at himself. He pushed down the pang in his chest at the thought of seeing his friends again, of being home, of being safe. Of being able to _talk_ when he wanted to. On their own volition his fingers touched the silencer embedded in his throat, resisting the urge to pick at it.

 _Hope Teal’c or Janet know how to get this thing out._

The sound of air passing outside was increasing now, the denser atmosphere indicating the pod was getting closer and closer to the surface. Planting his feet apart, Daniel began to brace himself. The landing on Netu had been a bit rough, no telling what this one would be like.

 _Just my luck I’ll land on rocks or in a volcano or the sea… Crap, is this thing waterproof? Martouf never…_

BANG!

A sudden violent shove sent Daniel into the wall on his left as the pod reverberated with the noise of an impact outside. Gasping, he attempted to straighten up only to be thrown to the other side as the pod began to shake and spin. Piercing alarms rang out, nearly deafening him in the confined space. The control panel was flashing red. Daniel barely managed to keep it in sight as he was bounced from one wall to another. One of the stabilizers was flashing red, the thrusters madly firing to compensate for the spin the pod had been forced into by an impact with something outside.

“Collision alert! Collision alert,” the voice of the onboard computer dispassionately advised him. “Left stabilizer non functional.”

 _Oh, no? Really?_ Daniel barely managed to bring his arms up in time to avoid imprinting his face into the doors. Reaching out his bound hands, he tried to stab at the panel to bring the stabilizer back up but was thrown backwards, then sideways, the pod beginning to spin even further out of control. Cracking his head on the back wall once more, he caught a heart-stopping view of what passed for an altimeter. Less than fifteen thousand cubits to go, that meant…. God, only four miles left.

 

Breath catching in his throat, Daniel attempted to prepare for what was going to be one hell of a rough landing. Pushing his feet as far apart as he could, he looked vainly about for something to hold on to. Nothing. Obviously the Goa’uld felt it would be weak to fit grab-handles in one of these tin cans.

As gravity spun an ever-increasing hold on the pod, his stomach lurched and Daniel found himself clenching his stomach muscles in time to the spinning. Scouring his memories for what to do when trapped in a tin can which was plummeting to earth, all Daniel could come up with was conflicting instructions from airline stewards about bracing for impact, and Jack and Sam arguing about relaxing all of one’s muscles before an expected impact to lessen the damage.

Daniel opted for half and half - bracing his legs against the side walls, he tried to relax his muscles as much as possible. Not an easy feat with the constant buffeting of the pod.

 _At this rate it’ll spin itself into the ground like a screw…_

“Ten seconds until touchdown,” the bored voice announced in Goa’uld.

Desperation filled his mind; he was alarmingly blank on anything practical to do about his situation. His mother’s words took over.

 _I am he who is not driven back from the gods. Who then is this? This is Atum in his Disk, otherwise said, this is Ra when he rises in the eastern horizon of Heaven._

 _I am the phoenix which is in Heliopolis; I am the keeper of the register of that which exists._

 _As for eternity, it is the day, and as for infinity, it is the night._

 _Mine is a heart of carnelian, crimson as murder on a holy day. Mine is a heart of cornel, the gnarled roots of a dogwood and the bursting of flowers. I am the broken wax seal on my lover's letters. I am the phoenix, the fiery sun, consuming and resuming myself. I pace the halls of the underworld. I knock on the doors of death. I wander into the fields to stare at the sun and lie in the grass, ripe as a fig. The souls of the gods are with me. They hum like flies in my ears. I am .1. I will what I will. Mine is a heart of carnelian, blood red as the crest of a phoenix._

Then there was nothing but white noise. Last minute instinct brought his bound hands up over his head, elbows clenched tight to protect his face.

Daniel screwed his eyes shut and held his breath.

WHAM!

The pod hit the ground with all the force of a speeding train, bounced high into the air and slammed back down, this time impacting on the top of the vessel. It flipped again, soaring for eternal seconds through the air, then impacted once more - this time flat on the back of the pod. Unable to withstand such pressure, the pod doors burst open and its precious cargo was flung away. Encumbered by its own weight the pod rolled several times, then rocked to a halt in a cloud of dust and debris.

Daniel felt as if his knees had been driven into his stomach as the pod hit the ground. Through all the bounce and tumble he crashed from wall to wall, powerless to cushion the blows from all sides. A brief realisation of daylight connected in his mind, then he was out, flying through the air and slamming into the ground with a breath-stealing thud. His momentum carried him onwards, a tangle of legs and arms turning ass over teakettle until finally rolling to a halt in a cloud of choking dust.

Stunned, Daniel could only lay where he was, legs tangled beneath him, torso twisted in the opposite direction from his pelvis. His hands were trapped beneath him, digging painfully into his ribs. His face was planted into the fine dusty ground, little puffs rising up to choke him as he desperately sucked in one lungful of air after another.

As silence descended around him, he cautiously raised his head and concentrated on what damage had been done. Everything seemed pretty numb, particularly his legs. With a tremendous effort he pushed against his hands until he could roll over onto his back. The second he did so, his whole body convulsed as shards of pain lanced up his left leg, through his groin and set every nerve ending he owned on fire. Daniel opened his mouth in a silent scream of agony, eyes staring at the sky above him in disbelief that his own body could produce such torture.

Gasping for air he tried to raise his head to look down at his leg, but the instant he did so a surge of nausea swept all reason from him. Base instinct was the only thing that saved him from choking on his own vomit. Accompanied by another lance of pain, he managed to twist to one side enough to evict the contents of his stomach onto the unforgiving ground. Long moments filled with heaving and spitting passed until Daniel finally lay still, awash in the sensations pouring from his abused body.  As far as he could tell, his left leg was torn completely off, which considering the pain was a good thing - he’d bleed to death soon enough and not have to cope with the agony any longer. Dimly, he considered the rest of his body. Everything seemed to be intact, alternately pounding in protest or numb to any further consideration. If he just lay here, shifting his face away from his last meal and didn’t move a muscle, the pain was just slightly in the tolerable realm.

Consciousness swam around him but refused to flee completely. Daniel lay quietly, absorbing the few sounds that penetrated the pounding of his pulse in his ears. He lost all track of time and was attempting to just float away with the light-headedness creeping over him when a hand appeared out of nowhere, gently gripping his arm. Starting badly, Daniel pushed at the dusty ground beneath him and flopped over onto his back.

Astonishment warred with a renewed bout of dizziness and nausea. Daniel tried to focus his eyes and gaze up at the person bending over him. Instinct once again came to the fore – his confused mind identified only a Jaffa staring down at him – and he brought up his bound hands in a futile attempt to protect himself from the blows that would surely follow.

Nothing happened. Daniel tried once more to focus his tired eyes on the face floating disconnectedly above him. Concerned brown eyes peered out from an ebony face that was split by a white toothy smile. Other faces faded in and out of his line of sight. The chatter of many voices seemed to surround him. Unable to cope with so much input, he focused on the friendly face above him.

Not Jaffa then. Locals.

 _Huh. Take me to your leader?_

For the first time in so many weeks, since that horrible moment when his last sight of a friendly face had been Sam unconscious, Daniel felt the stirrings of hope – hope for safety, for a way home, for an end to the bizarreness his life had become.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story continues in Book Three, N'Has'y.


End file.
